


Vitriol

by Kreativekilljoy



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Control Issues, Cuteness i guess?, Dark Musings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-01 13:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10922619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kreativekilljoy/pseuds/Kreativekilljoy
Summary: An encaged space gives birth to something new.





	1. Your life will never be the same again

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by 'you know what they do to guys like us in prison' by My chemical romance.

"Two year sentence for data interference and deterioration of police records, case closed," the judge announced in a monotone voice.

The tone of his voice was one of boredom but the attention of his eyes weighed heavy on Izaya.

Izaya's focus splintered and thoughts scattered in his head, vying for dominance, waiting to be examined, turned over and scrutinised but he didn't enjoy the chaos of his head.

There was a cacophony of white noise around him but the surrealism of everything numbed him away from reality. 

Izaya had not panicked when a search warrant was thrust in his face and the police searched his house. He prided himself on his intelligence, he had been shaking off the police for years in his line of profession and kept his track record impeccably clean. His house was turned over and he slouched against the frame of his door, confident and watchful. 

He didn't let any alarm settle when his computer was taken into custody to be examined, his security was elaborate and Izaya was a pro hacker, on the exterior it was a simple computer, he even had porn downloaded to maintain a pretence of normalcy although he found it distasteful.  Let them search he had thought, feeling smug.

But what he didn't anticipate was someone being able to hack his system, to bypass his codes and security to see his records. He didn't know how the police did it but obviously someone had tipped them off about his computer or conveyed some form of instructions to invade his computer. A previous client, his plethora of enemies, it could be anyone and Izaya was burning with rage to have been caught out like that.

He always flew, flew high above everyone but someone decided to tug him down so he promised the day he was convicted that he would tug this person down even further into the pits of hell.

///

Izaya wouldn't fulfill a two year sentence, he had connections and he planned for an appeal within the month, he knew the justice system and sure it didn't look good for him but he would not rot in prison with animals for two years. 

Izaya was not made for cages, to be barred with monsters away from the aesthetics of human society that he profusely enjoyed. 

He would not let fear register. He was in control, he would not hand the reign to pitiful hysteria, even as he was stripped, washed, given a disgusting jumpsuit and escorted to the prison cell. 

It was a disjointed affair. His nature was always to fixate on everything around him but for once his mind was sluggish, his body strained to tension without having the cool of his metal blade in his hand. The only metal he would be feeling were prison bars now but he would not panic.  He will be out and when he was he would cause a cataclysmic storm of events, sit back and enjoy it with a cup of coffee. Those thoughts alone kept him grounded as he raised his head upright and tilted his chin to one of confidence. He would observe the irregularity of humans while he was here, what desperation caused human beings to land them in prison. 

Izaya was aware prison wasn't a playground, there was an unestablished hierchy and ruthless individuals and he had to maintain composure if he were to survive and extract revenge and return to his normal life. A thought he had been suppressing was fighting to achieve his attention but he ignored it. The possibility was slim and his luck couldn't be that rotten. 

He seemed to be in some sort of common area room which was the worst place to have been introduced to because heads swung in his direction. Burly men, cold eyes, scars and brutality stared at him and Izaya felt small but kept his facade in place. He was being evaluated, judged, he knew that and their gazes were leering. He had to keep his head down here he realised, any other place he could rule easily but with no space to retreat to like in the outside world, he couldn't establish any vice of command. 

He estimated twenty odd men in the common room and many were probably in the tiny rooms down the shady looking corridor in front of him. This prison was tiny, cramped and Izaya swallowed down claustrophobia. The air smelled stale and of perspiration and Izaya did not enjoy this particular display of humanity. 

"This one's pretty," the greasy voice of a stocky man to his right rasped. There was a chorus of chortles and Izaya felt trapped. How did the government believe putting all these offenders in a limited space was a good idea? They must've really just wanted them to finish each other off. 

Izaya tilted his head, dragging his lips to a smirk and felt bile at the back of his throat.

"Thanks old man," he drawled, ignoring the emanating hostility and stepped forth. The guards didn't even show him his bed, he blindly walked forward, trying to find a space just for himself because his head was spinning. 

How was this happening? He should be home terrorising Namie, not in this dingy prison.

His world felt unhinged when he heard the voice, a growl, a promise of violence.

"Izaya-kun."

Izaya spun around, feeling reality with a clarity again, awoken from his stupor and his eyes widened as he spotted the blond. 

Heiwajima Shizuo stood alone, always a solitary figure, his frame shaking with disbelief and anger.

Fuck, Izaya's mind supplied helpfully.

Shizuo's eyes looked wilder with the three months of prison he had under his belt. Brown roots peeked out from uncut locks, stubble lined his jaw, anger spiked his eyes and an ugly bruise decorated his cheek. 

It had been one of Izaya's carefully planned ideas. He knew Shizuo and he had an important operation to lead so he decided to throw the monster out of the picture for a couple of months and enjoy causing Shizuo grief. 

He strategically led Shizuo to a place heavily populated, he fought him and aimed his position in all the right places and the inevitable finally happened. A civilian had been injured by Shizuo and that stupid monster crushed by guilt went to court, accepted the sentence where all his previous offences were brought up and suddenly community service wasn't an option. Shizuo got a small sentence and Izaya celebrated in the luxury of his home, didn't have to look at the beast's face for some time other than to see the misery of his face in the courtroom. 

And now that came to bite him in the face because there was Shizuo, in a damn prison with him, burning with rage and Izaya could not escape.

Shizuo walked towards him and Izaya retreated back and suddenly Izaya wasn't thinking of all the men surrounded them, undoubtedly staring at the duo but the danger walking towards him. He had not anticipated this, his heart thumped erratically. He had to get out of this. He took once second to appraise the guards at the cell gate, back stubbornly turned away from them. 

He twisted around and ran down the small corridor but what could he do? Trap himself in one of the tiny rooms that barely fit a single bunk bed,  turn down towards the bathrooms?  What on earth could he do? He could not get away. 

So he abruptly stopped and let Shizuo catch up who had surprisingly kept to walking after Izaya but why not relish a trapped prey?

"Come to fuck me over even in here?" Shizuo greeted, his eyes were dark and Izaya stumbled back a step. 

"Not everything is about you Shizu-chan," Izaya said cheerfully even though his throat had closed up. 

Shizuo got right in his face, right in his space, he didn't allow people this close to him and his back hit the wall. The breadth of his shoulders engaged him in like a prison. 

"It's pathetic to see you scared Izaya-kun," Shizuo smiled a grimace and Izaya let his stiff body go lax in a pretence of ease. 

"It's not fear I've just missed you Shizu-chan, did you miss me too? Do you want a hug or something, is that why you have me glued to the wall?"

Everything was going out of his control, his carefully planned life had been shaken and the only reason he wasn't trembling was because Shizuo's warm body, pressed flushed against him, would feel it. His blood was ice and his body was warm. His vision was blurry but his focus was sharp. He had never felt such foreboding, he usually liked to smile at danger but this wasn't ideal for hin.

A clenched fist banged on the wall beside his head. 

Izaya did not flinch. 

"I don't even have to lift a finger against you flea because guess what happens to 'pretty' boys like you in prison," Shizuo's lips pulled down in disgust and Izaya's smirk finally faltered till he could feel a sense of mania creep up within him. 

"Get off Shizuo," Izaya spat and Shizuo obliged but seemed satisfied to finally see Izaya raise a shaking hand to his temple. 

Izaya's carefully regulated, perfect life, torn from his grasp as he was thrown into this hell hole. 

He could not keep his head down here, he would have to somehow rule.


	2. To wage this war

Izaya didn't know whether it was anticlimatic when Shizuo backed off and shuffled back to the common room, his face eerily calm or a relief.

It caused hysteria to bubble up Izaya's throat to see his control ripped and Shizuo completely calm. Biting his lips, Izaya ignored the urge to take shelter in one of the rooms, his pride would not allow such a cowardly action and slouched back into the common room full of wild, distorted humanity. 

He needed the night to think of a plan, to lay out his roots and form some sort of protection because here, he had no safety. Shizuo was volatile and will probably try to smash him to a wall any moment, these men were deprived and loved to establish their dominance over new people. 

When Izaya stepped foot into the common room area he felt as if he had missed the punchline of a joke as the men sneered at him and shamelessly stared.

It was so strange to see all these men splayed across the room, a few paid him no heed, shuffling cards, scribbling on paper, staring unblinkingly towards space (Izaya would find this morbidly interesting if his situation wasn't so miserable) but the majority watched him whether for entertainment or other reasons, he did not wish to know. 

He arranged his features to one of neutrality, his focus flickering to hyper awareness, there was a beanbag in the corner, he would go there.  

A tall man with a shaved head and strong jaw decided to block his way

Izaya's patience thinned. 

"Did it only take a minute to blow Heiwajima? I can last longer sweetheart," the man purred, eyeing Izaya in a way that made Izaya's skin crawl.

At the corner of his eyes he observed Shizuo's fists clenched. 

Did three months with Shizuo not make these men realise the danger of the monster?

"Last more than a minute? Going for a record there sweetheart?" Izaya mimicked the sugary voice, he would not be made the fool, not in a place like this and in front of Shizuo. 

It was disorientating to have so many eyes on Izaya, he was used to lurking on the fringes of society not observed by so many people, it made his skin prickle uncomfortably. 

When a few of the audience chuckled at Izaya's bold comment, the man seemed to not like it, his expression morphed to anger and he stuck his chubby hand out and grasped Izaya's elbow and dragged him into him.

Izaya felt numb, some form of anger was burning low inside him, embers flickered, sequences of fight moves ran through his brain.

"I might just stuff that pretty mouth to shut it up but first let's make it prettier," the guy hissed. For a big man, his actions were meant to be slow but faster than Izaya could imagine, he had raised his fist and punched Izaya, square on the mouth from close range.  

His head reeled back, his mouth felt raw, when he ran his tongue to his teeth, he tasted metal. Blood tricked down his mouth. His vision blurred for a moment.

"Look now he looks like he's wearing lipstick, kneel down beautiful," baldie demanded, tugging Izaya, to try force him to kneel down in front of him. 

Izaya didn't enjoy it when he ran on emotions, he would rather carefully plan things and execute them to the minute details, the only thing that was grounding him was the throb of his swollen lips but that last restraint diminished when he saw Shizuo move towards his scene, face twisted, conflicted, fighting with his mind. 

Shizuo was a monster but not the type of monster, not the sort of beast that watched displays of sexual abuse.  
Izaya would not be rescued by his fucking enemy, he had not gone that low.

A fury he hadn't let himself feel in some time rose to the tips of his fingers and toes, until he was twisting from the man's grasp.  

He was an experienced fighter, not having a knife wasn't great but Izaya knew street fighting. 

He kicked and he kicked hard, with venom right in the man's crotch, sometimes you needed to apply the common tactics in a fight. 

The man keeled over and Izaya swept his foot under him, knocking him unceremoniously to the floor. 

The man muttered a string of curses, grabbed Izaya's foot to drag him down but Izaya was unrelenting. Angling his foot was all it took for the man to release him, coming free with just a shoe. 

Breathing heavily, he kicked the man's nose, hearing a crunch. 

It felt liberating to let this mania take control. 

Everything was weighing down on his shoulders, swirling the atmosphere above him and barely teetering him to the ground. 

"You know, I'd like to stuff that ugly mouth shut too," Izaya said, tone conversational but his voice sounded odd in the air. 

He bent over and pressed his knee to the man's neck. Living breathing life was below him, a degenerate was below him and it was satisfying to see his face tinging an ugly purple.  

No one moved to stop Izaya, he was probably providing the entertainment of the month to their mundane existence. 

He fumbled with his hand until he came into contact with his fallen shoe. Using the tip of his shoe, he smeared the blood leaking from the man's broken nose and spread it across his lips, the man's eyes widened and his face scrunched in rage and he struggled to get up but Izaya didn't allow it. 

He forced his shoe into the man's mouth, smiling sweetly.  

"Oh sweetheart you take all of me in so well," Izaya cooed, twisting it in the man's mouth who choked on his own spit and blood. 

"I'm so close, if you had hair I'd pull it," Izaya continued, pushing his shoe further, reveling in the throaty sound of the man gagging. 

The room had simply shrunk to Izaya and the man, he forgot his audience, he forgot the guards. All of the weeks of trials, the sentence, seeing Shizuo, being sexually harassed, being underestimated like he couldn't defend himself caught up with Izaya in a turbulent rage. This man dared to try clip Izaya's wings and he would pay, Izaya would shove the shoe right down his throat and out his damn ass, he would-

And suddenly Izaya's vision changed and he was being lifted in the air, his sense of gravity was shaken and he blinked several times to snap back into himself. Shizuo had lifted him up, Shizuo was carrying him, with an arm on his back like some child and walking away with him. 

"Let go," Izaya bit out trying to get a grasp of himself. He was holding him too tight, stifling him to heat.

"You are some level of bat shit crazy, flea," Shizuo said in his ear and Izaya had no counter argument. 

A vice like grip from Shizuo would be impossible to get out of, how had he managed to get himself caught by Shizuo this number of times? His mouth was aching and his heart was still on acceleration and he couldn't get Shizuo to release him. 

He blindly looked over his shoulders but the corridor was too damn dark and of course the guards do nothing. They merely turn a blind eye, probably sometimes watched the violence. 

Shizuo pushed open a door and Izaya kicked and struggled until suddenly he was falling as Shizuo simply dropped him. 

"Such a gentleman," Izaya taunted, trying to apply a sense of evenness to his voice. 

He pushed himself up, tried to hide his wince and swung his focus on Shizuo who leaned against the room wall observing Izaya.  

His brown eyes, not burning with hatred, unnerved Izaya. 

"What?" Izaya said through gritted teeth.

There had always been an underlying tension in all their altercations and in this suffocating room, the intensity swallowed Izaya a whole.

"My room is the only room with a free bed," Shizuo said simply,  he pushed himself off the wall and walked past Izaya to sit at the bottom bunk,  which he assumed was his. 

Izaya laughed. 

"You dragged me out of that to sleep with you Shizu-chan? You've had three months here with monsters like you. Didn't you make any friends?  No bunk buddies?"

"I was hoping they'd beat you to shit with your smug attitude not constantly make moves towards you," Shizuo replied, his gaze was unwavering and Izaya didn't know how to feel. He knew the type of man Shizuo was but he despised any pity from him,  he didn't need Shizuo to intervene. Mentally Izaya could not help but clutch onto his godly pride. He would defend himself here, he didn't need any enemy help. 

But he liked to laugh at danger and sat right down beside Shizuo, bed dipping, springs creaking, maybe he was feeling too self destructive. The mattress was thin and the sheet was rough and Izaya lamented losing his comfortable bed. A vein became visible on Shizuo's head and God Izaya had missed antagonising this monster. 

"Aren't you a knight in shining armour?" Izaya drawled, he didn't know what was happening anymore, sleeping on the bed above Shizuo was asking for trouble but sleeping in a room with a potential rapist was worse. Hos head was spinning from the earlier events and suddenly he was glad Shizuo had dragged him off. 

"Why the fuck are you here Izaya?" Shizuo countered not shying away from the proximity, his brows furrowed and he breathed deeply as if to reign in some anger, Shizuo had somehow matured in the three months, or changed, the way he held himself, even the glow of his eyes, Izaya could not name the changed variable. It made him feel out of the loop and somehow angry. Even the tendrils of natural brown creeping into Shizuo's blond hair made Izaya feel left behind.

He noticed how Shizuo clutched the sheets beneath them. Was Shizuo really not going to strike?

"Felt like scoping prison, see if I'd get a shoe blowjob," Izaya replied nonchalantly. He crossed his legs and tried to breathe some tension away but he felt strung over, raw and coiled like a spring. 

Shizuo raised his hand and Izaya waited for the blow, a hit, he almost wanted it, to knock him back to some form of reality so that he wasn't operating on the remnants of the blind anger from earlier. 

Instead four warm fingers splayed across his cheek, since when had Izaya's face been so small? The pad of a thumb ran over his lower lip. 

Izaya felt a complete different burn than the burn of pain. 

Shizuo drew his thumb back and stared at the crimson of blood that stuck to it, a look of concentration on his face.

Izaya could not raise his vision above Shizuo's hand.

"You really aren't gonna survive here," Shizuo sounded what? Amused? 

He pushed at Izaya's lip with a finger now and Izaya's face flushed and automatically opened without his control. 

"No broken teeth," Shizuo hummed, looking at Izaya closely and Izaya pulled back with a jerk. 

"Prison has fucked you up Shizu-chan," Izaya spat, lips tingling, heart stuttering and backed off the bed. He realised what had shifted in Shizuo's eyes after looking so closely, the clear transition not noticeable unless you observed closely. 

Shizuo had calmed down, he had locked some anger in a box inside his brain and it had quelled to dimness in his eyes until Izaya was at a loss. He had some form of control. Izaya did not understand Shizuo now.

This tiny room with the white walls, stray bunk bed and a lack of space and Shizuo still hadn't torn him apart. 

Shizuo merely shrugged, "It'll fuck you over too Izaya-kun."

The words did not sound like a threat but an inevitable promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izaya is badass and a complete psycho and I had to convey that OK I love my child. 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely reviews<3
> 
> I notice a shortcoming in my writing in the sense that I'm awful at giving setting and background description and I'll work on that I promise:)
> 
> Shizuo is too calm.


	3. Am I loosing myself?

Izaya did not look up when Shizuo left the room, his finger stained with Izaya's blood and something shifted in Izaya's core. 

His adrenaline drained to nonexistence and his hyperawareness ceased. 

Izaya was tired. An exhaustion that was deeply ingrained within him and caused his limbs and head to feel heavy. An exhaustion that didn't necessarily have anything to do with a lack of sleep. 

Izaya climbed up to the top bunk, one of his bare feet grazing the broken ladder as he orientated himself onto the bed. 

Fuck the shoe, he thought. 

But imagining his shoe abandoned in a pool of spittle and blood back in the common room, made Izaya want to laugh and scream and pull at his hair. 

He slid under the thin covers and sank into the limited warmth. 

Izaya always had a habit of sleeping fully under the covers, head and all, it was his sleeping style since youth but he could not relax enough to blind his vision under the covers. 

Instead he appraised the blank ceiling with the spidery cracks that decorated the corners, the whitest part of the walls was the ceiling, the rest were stained with questionable substances. 

Now was the time that Izaya should formulate a plan, establish some semblance of control but his mind was sluggish and lit up to focus again an hour or two later, when he heard Shizuo return to the room wordlessly.  
He heard him settle down below him and Izaya felt a deep satisfaction to be above Shizuo. He was higher than him, he graced the skies and Shizuo should stay unreachable on the ground. 

He only closed his aching eyes when Shizuo's breathing evened out. His body eased and the silence was deafening and Izaya's heavy eyelids fell and he dropped into an abyss of fitful sleep. 

Izaya dreamed of dissolving into nothing, bones disintegrating to a pile of brittled smoke and blowing away with the elements. Simply being eroded, forgotten, insignificant. 

He woke up with a dry throat convulsing on an unvoiced scream and he jerked awake, with his heart fluttering like a hummingbird. 

Sweat coated his body and not knowing what time it was made Izaya feel on edge. Not being able to settle back down, he got up, he had to go toilet and the task was daunting enough. 

He easily maneuvered down the broken ladder till his naked feet touched the floor. 

He turned around to see Shizuo asleep in a bundle of flimsy covers, messy hair and relaxed expression. He looked serene. It made something ache inside. Izaya could just reach out and hurt him, never had the monster been laid out vulnerable so close to him. 

He wanted to reach out. 

But his bladder called and he twisted around to exit the room and let his legs go on autopilot while he thought. 

He had won something yesterday and he didn't know how the other prisoners would take that up as, it all depended on the position of the man he had fucked over. How many people he had passed off was still an unknown variable. 

He turned into the open bathroom with the few urinals, one stall, showerheads, foul smell and white tiles. Everything was white here. Did they enjoy looking at blood daily staining the white? Was it a beautiful visual?

Izaya sauntered over to the urinal, his hair was raised since there were three people already filtering the room.

One shaving, one showering and the other at a urinal himself. 

Izaya sauntered over, facade of calm not wavering and unzipped himself to relieve his bladder. 

After releasing his anger yesterday, he felt nothing but mild irritation at the guy beside him, staring. 

Izaya looked sideways, gave him a smirk of narrow eyed haughtiness. 

"Want me to piss on you?" he purred and the guy's eye widened and he swung his vision down with a muttered "crazy fucker."

Pleased, Izaya tucked himself away, splashed some water on his face, trying not to fixate on his tired reflection too much and left the toilet of staring males. 

He had left an impression yesterday and they were on a limbo as to what to do with him. 

Humans were all fundamentally the same everywhere and yet so different.

He didn't really know where to go, back into the room with a Shizuo that caused unease or the common room. He lingered in the hallway. 

A man, on a tattered couch in the common room noticed him, he beckoned him forth and Izaya was too damn curious and directionless so he walked up to the man. 

Upon closer inspection, the man was older. Grey lining his hair and skin wrinkling at his eyes but there was an intelligence there. 

"I kept yer shoe," the man said as soon as Izaya was in hearing range. 

Surprise hit Izaya at the act and he couldn't help his eyebrows raising when the man gave him his shoe. He hadn't want to fuck around prison with just one shoe, this was a relief. 

"Why did you do that?" Izaya asked carefully, surely he needed something in return? Prison favours, a quick fuck, drugs, anything. 

The man's lips just tilted up, "You do be remindin' me of my son," he answered and Izaya was stunned by humanity again. 

Just because he carried familiar traits to this man's son, he could easily project those emotions on a stranger like Izaya. 

"I do hope you don't make a habit of wanting to fuck your son," Izaya said dryly, for once feeling awkward, he should be leading a conversation, he should know people's intentions. A father's affection put on him didn't feel right to Izaya at all. 

Instead of anger the man merely chuckled, "He always does be having this humour I never understood either."

That's all the benevolence Izaya needed to sit down beside the older man.

Izaya talked to a lot of people, people believed he ran around rampaging and burning cities but frequently he strolled parks and talked to individuals and enjoyed humanity. It's not a side people were familiar with, only the old ladies in the park and random individuals. 

The old man said to call him Korn (obviously not his real name and Izaya itched for the story of his life), professional thief, he introduced himself as. 

He was enthusiastic to know about the outside world since ten years in prison left a guy without perspective. 

So Izaya talked, let his calm spread, let his natural conversation deviance run its course, let the room fill with people who had awaken. 

A few men stared at him but no one did anything which was interesting. 

Violence it seemed was the quickest way to establish power in this joint. 

Baldie didn't make an appearance and to that Izaya was grateful, he had the feeling he would be cornered the moment he left old man Korn's shadow.

At some point a line formed for food around a small lady, strict faced and resolute flanked by guards in the common room. It was a haphazard affair, large men stumbling to fit into a line, trafficked like the animals they were. 

She served grey soup with equally greying bread and Izaya's hunger partially diminished. He hated this gloomy joint, it repulsed his very being. 

"That's the cook, get in line, a roll will be called now kid," Korn told him, heaving himself off the couch and shuffling over to get in line. 

8239 

Those were the numbers that labelled him. 'Orihara Izaya did not hold any relevance, any weight in this world. Izaya needed to make those numbers into something in this little world. 

Izaya followed Korn like a stray puppy because realistically he should feed to keep up his strength. 

He was brushed against uncomfortably in line, something he knew was intentional but didn't let that provoke him. 

He charmed the cook with a compliment about her hair and her dead eyes flared a little more life and she handed Izaya an extra slice of bread. 

Connections, however trivial, meant everything. 

Shizuo had also made his way into the common room for roll call, grudgingly taking food and sitting across from Izaya in a grumpy heap of tousled hair. The act resembled that of a child and it struck Izaya. 

"What?" Shizuo grumbled, pining Izaya with his eyes. 

This was bizarre, they should have levelled the prison together by now. Instead Shizuo was sitting across him, peacefully slurping grey soup. 

"Your hair is God awful," Izaya announced, letting distaste colour his tone, feeling a few stray gazes on him. They were curious about him and Shizuo it seemed. Izaya would love to know what they thought of this monster, what impression did Shizuo have on the prisoners? 

"Your everything is God awful," Shizuo responded, he took a spoonful of the soup, shuddered a grimace and his face continued to cringe while he picked at the food. 

This was normal now, if only Shizuo would be his violent self, Izaya wanted to reach now, reach across the span of space under the prying eyes, put his hands on Shizuo and distort everything to anger. 

///

Three days bled into one another, knocking the previous day's boredom into new levels of boredom to the present day and Izaya did what he was best at. 

He observed. Took on his godly role of watching over all. He was able to unearth a few things. 

He knew the indisputable leader of the prison, a built man in his thirties with unnaturally blue eyes that boasted a half Japanese descent, Mitsuo Black was his name. He had the smuggled goods, he gave the protection and he had the power and Izaya was bidding his time to ensnare him to good terms with himself. 

This place wasn't a maximum security prison, the rules lacked strictness but had a certain structure. There was roll call in the morning and guards frequented the cells regularly. A tiny library, the size of a closet had Izaya elated and he had already pulled several books out of, curling up at night to get lost in them. For three hours in the evening the back gate opened to a fenced garden for the inmates to get fresh air, there was also a piss poor gym to release the pent up tension but that never stopped the tension and raw anger that always permeated the prison.

Izaya had witnessed three fights already, bones cracking, blood splattering, unadulterated violence. 

He had seen one attempted rape which Shizuo had unsurprisingly quickly put an end to. 

Speaking of Shizuo, the monster kept out of his hair, almost avoiding Izaya. He liked staying in the garden alone or their room and Izaya couldn't be alone in a place like this. 

His act of violence had faded, impressions forgotten and the prisoners had gotten antsy. 

He stayed by Korn's side in the common room, playing chess and making conversation, all the while he felt on edge. He hadn't showered in three days because how the fuck could he when he was leered at like that?

The bald guy frequented the common room again and shivered with haunted eyes and his broken nose when Izaya smirked at him across the room which was satisfying. He made sure to stroke his shoe seductively when their eyes locked and to see a grown man seize up reduced Izaya to hysterics.

What wasn't satisfying were the hands constantly on him, in the line,  in the common room, once a guy slapped his ass and Izaya's vision flickered red. 

Is this how Shizuo saw the world?  Everyone against you? Taunting you, challenging you. Attacking you. 

It was easy to become a monster if you were treated like that. Maybe Izaya was sympathising with his enemy. Izaya couldn't even admit that the only time he felt any semblance of safety was when he heard his enemy's soft breathing under him to lull him to sleep. 

Izaya knew he should wait for a good opportunity to approach Mitsuo Black All he needs was the sharp edge of a blade and to be in Black's good books but his timeline was fading. 

Currently he was having a tug of war of some sorts with a guy gripping his wrist. 

Izaya strained to tug his wrist back and the towering man continued to pull at his wrist and it would almost he comical if Izaya wasn't trapped into a corner in the hall. 

Izaya looked over the man's shoulder and widened his eyes. 

"Shizu-chan," he whispered in shock. 

The guy released his wrist as if he was hot iron, cursing and Izaya snickered and maneuvered away. Much to Izaya's displeasure, the name Shizuo held weight in this space. Izaya's cheap tactics wouldn't last long here though, he was well aware of it, knew danger was approaching him viscerally. 

But today would be a good day, he would be allowed to make a phone call today and he would call his secretary and have Namie building up a case for him on the outside. Once something substantial was built, he could go for an appeal and place this experience as an interesting trip to study humanity's ugliness. 

With renewed vigour he fell into the lines for phone calls, thinking of what instructions to relay to Namie, letting his head envision files and crowd with figures. 

He edged close to the front of the line, finally able to stab the digits to his secretary's memorised number. He wouldn't admit it but he wanted to hear Namie's voice, wanted the sound of familiarity to ease his nerves, he wanted the things that he was familiar with in the outside world. Even Namie's flat chastising voice was welcome. He craved quiet evenings in his office with just the breathing presence of Namie in the corner. He missed it. 

Izaya sighed a little breath of relief when he heard the "Hello?" on the other line, suppressing past the emotions that would colour his tone, he fought to keep his voice lighthearted. 

"Namie-san, it's Izaya." 

Beep beep beep. 

The phone had disconnected and Izaya frowned at the receiver, eyebrows knitting together. 

He urgently redialed the same numbers, but the phone only continued to ring and ring and ring. 

A gap in his brain, a blind spot, reason filled, it clicked into a perfect little cracked puzzle piece in Izaya's head. 

Someone had tipped off the police about his computer.

He didn't inform many people about his private affairs only the one person that stayed grudgingly by his side. 

He was beginning to become saturated with a certain numbness. 

Of course it wasn't just Namie in on it on her own, she didn't hate Izaya just had probably gotten a better price than Izaya was filling in her pockets. It was merely an employee employer relationship, nothing else. 

The receiver was cold in Izaya's hand, heavy with the weight of the emptiness of knowing that he had no one in the world left to call. 

"Are ya gonna hurry up," a foul stench breathed down his neck, pushing close to Izaya's back in the line. 

Izaya merely placed the receiver down and sidestepped the queue, shutting his mind down on thinking for a minute. 

He needed to breathe, needed to go outside and not feel so trapped. Trapped by everything. 

He quietly slipped out to the backgarden, inhaling a lungful of air that didn't fill anything within him. Cold air hit his face, the sky was a prematurely darkened expanse that came with the season of winter. 

He found what he was looking for, the beast, sitting against the wall sucking his cancer sticks. A dark bundle of body illuminated by the garden's artifical light. 

He walked right up to him, he wanted to provoke the monster, he wanted a fight, a real fight, bones and thought processes to be crushed. 

Shizuo looked up at him, eyes seeming to take him in a whole, his shoulders tensed, his lips tilted down when meeting Izaya's eyes. 

"Say Shizu-chan," Izaya began, conversationally and he could see the physical evidence of anger crawling into Shizuo's features. 

Good, if he applied his signature drawl and smirks, it still managed to rile Shizuo up. He was sick of the calmness, the false pretend of peace. 

"Do you let the prisoners fuck you for all those cigarettes, you seem to have a vast supply," Izaya goaded, leaning over Shizuo. He was the one above. 

Shizuo leveled him with a stare that made Izaya feel small, his hair blew in the wind and Izaya was too damn cold and fed up.

"No, inmates give them to me for rape protection," Shizuo replied and it infuriated Izaya to hear the casual tone. Where was his intense anger? sure Shizuo's mouth was frowning and his fist was clenched but he wasn't trying to maul Izaya to death and this, this was not what he needed. Although that piece of information would've been interesting another time, to find out a way Shizuo operated in prison, cigarettes for protection but right now Izaya was angry.

"They're disgusting," Izaya said as Shizuo took a drag and his shoulders visibly relaxed. 

The conversation was starting to feel distant, the betrayal standing at the forefront of his thoughts with an uneasy feeling. 

"Then why are you looking at them with such longing?" Shizuo questioned, he made smoking look like an art, taking puffs and exhaling little bubbles of smoke. The tips burned bright embers, almost like the stars Izaya would see through his window. Late office hours with Namie. Izaya wasn't sure what he was looking at with longing or to specify, which part. He shook his head and rubbed his eye with the back of a hand. 

He remembered being fifteen and being fascinated by Shizuo's lips constantly wrapped around a cigarette stick. He remembered not understanding why humans polluted their lungs and became addicted. He remembered trying to smoke for the first time and vomiting all over the pavement. He remembered feeling angry because Shizuo could do this and he could not. 

"I tried it, numerous times, coughed up my lungs too much, vomited once," Izaya supplied, he did not know why he was telling Shizuo this, or why he was talking too much. He was meant to be trying to pick a fight but he felt drained. He didn't want to think, lay meaning behind all the errant thoughts, touch his emotions and have them burst to vulnerability. 

"You want stress relief," Shizuo said simply, tilting his head to the side and Izaya was struck with just how perspective Shizuo could be with him. Just how well Shizuo seemed to be able to predict him when Izaya could barely get an inkling of idea for Shizuo's motives. 

"Yes," Izaya replied, the air was too cold but Izaya didn't want to return inside to that prison, didn't want to return to the place where he drew up a conclusion that he did not want to face. 

Izaya cursed his intelligence sometimes but at least it kept him safe from falling, with parents that never cared, sisters that were too detached and being so disjointed from society Izaya should never have regarded anything more from Namie.  
He shouldn't think, he should suppress the thoughts, force them into a box at the back of his brain with all the other unvoiced thoughts. 

"C'mere then, relieve stress," Shizuo tugged at his wrist and Izaya had even forgotten that he was there. Shizuo was another unvoiced thought.

Shizuo must've underestimated his pull and Izaya must've been too lost in the void of his head for balance because Izaya fell onto Shizuo, face hitting his chest, limbs splaying awkwardly, air being knocked out of his lungs. 

But there was Shizuo arranging his legs to bracket Shizuo's hips and what, he was straddling Shizuo now? Namie was the last thought on his mind now. It had blanked completely. 

"What-what are you doing?" Izaya's voice sounded choked and blood warmed his cheeks.

"You want to smoke but can't, open your mouth," Shizuo ordered. 

Izaya blinked, felt warm all over with Shizuo's gaze and obediently opened his mouth. 

Shizuo raised the cigarette to his lips, sucked the toxic fumes through his mouth. 

Izaya's eyes widened as Shizuo's hand framed the back of his head and urged him forth, closer to his space. 

His lips did not brush his but the warmth of it did as Shizuo exhaled the chemicals into Izaya's mouth.

"You-" Izaya tried to pull away, his open thighs were warm, Shizuo was warm, he wanted the cool air to freeze his core again. 

But Shizuo's hand stayed stubbornly cupped to the back of his head, would not let Izaya move so much as an inch back.

"You can smoke this way and it won't be too much," Shizuo said calmly, as if this was a solution, as if this position wasn't compromising on Izaya's part, as if he couldn't see the lighter brown specks in Shizuo's eyes this close or even his lashes dipping over their honey brown or how the colouring in the bruise of his jaw was fading into Shizuo's skin, losing appearance. 

Of course it was too much but for a different reason. 

"I'm," Izaya swallowed, "it's fine," he said through the waver of his voice. 

"Is it fine? You're sad." It wasn't a question. 

Izaya could feel the violence of Shizuo's fingers on him but there was no pain and it was disorientating.  
It wasn't what Izaya wanted to hear, to think about, the fact that this even registered within Shizuo made something claw up his throat. Izaya shouldn't even be upset. 

He wanted to look down or run away but stubbornness prevented any of those self preserving tactics, instead he maintained the eye contact and leaned forward. 

"More," he breathed, wanting a fix, something just something that didn't feel like the foundations of his mind were crumbling, becoming so undercut, they were collapsing in on themselves and something in his core shook. 

An unidentifiable look crossed Shizuo's face or maybe something in his eye but it was impossible to interpret and Izaya was stuck on a pause of trying to feel nothing. 

Shizuo took another long pull of nicotine and once again released an exhale against Izaya's lips. Izaya's spine shuddered and mind splintered with thoughts, crisscrossing and converging. 

Shizuo was being more careful, something Izaya's mind rejected. His hand only stayed curled loosely in his hair now. His breaths were long and Izaya stayed very still. 

If he didn't acknowledge the shift in things, it wasn't happening. 

He kept his limbs stiff even if Shizuo was warm but something was passing between the two. In the plumes of smoke exchanged, softening edges and easing nerves down to a haze.

Comfort, Izaya's mind provided. 

Familiarity, Izaya's mind ignored. 

He let it warm and soothe an ache, just this once because something has always been irrational inside him when involving Shizuo. 

He understood human addiction now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey there, em long time no see:0
> 
> That was my fault, I started this fic when my exams were beginning like an idiot but no worries once I get my chemistry exam done on the 20th, I will update very frequently and finish this. Also I got very intimidated by all the lovely comments and hid for a while oops. 
> 
> Sorry if this flows weird and next chapter I think we need to start discovering things about Shizuo <3


	4. How we're just two men as God had made us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger: mild dub con and internalised homophobia but just a little.

Izaya woke up with the remnants of his dreams still clutching him, nightmares that made him taste adrenaline even with the stupor of sleep clinging to him.

He slipped down his favourite broken ladder, cast Shizuo his customary glare, even though the monster was dead to the world with sleep. It was tradition that Izaya woke up first, his routine established after a week in the place. Shizuo lay sprawled across his mattress with his eyebrows furrowed, like the images that swam across his closed lids were unpleasant.

Good, he thought, I hope my nightmares have seeped down to him, I hope I have contaminated him.

He left their shared room, early, just like he did every morning. The hallway was cold and Izaya cringed against the chill. Was he getting into the swing of things?

No he would never acclimatise himself to this environment.

He slunk off to the bathroom, washing his face and wiping parts of his skin like his neck with a wet towel, drizzling water to his hair because Izaya still had not formulated a plan for showering here. He had snook a quick spray of water late one night and that had been it. He was developing an internal clock of some sorts here, where the void of time passed unknown and listlessly and perhaps he will finally be able to fully shower here at a certain time in the night when the hallways were empty. He rubbed a towel through his hair ignoring the inmate showering beside him, jerking off with water cascading down his scarred shoulders, staring straight at him as his hand continued to stroke.

The indignation was another thing he was getting used to, he shuffled out of the bathroom just as usual, Korn's back was to him, his morning greeting, Korn sitting on his favourite tattered armchair and Izaya walked over as per routine to the half tilted lipped smile, soon breakfast would be served and he would ask Aiko-san, the cook about how her garden was faring and the latest trends in women's hat. He was leading an exciting life, really.

He slurped the sludge of breakfast, imagining his glorious fatty tuna at home and his expensive coffee, God, Izaya had really hit the, to put it eloquently, shit end. 

He pushed the half finished food away from his line of vision, feeling his mood sour, he dug under Korn's claimed armchair until he found the book that he was storing and he leaned back against the chair and read, read and read until his lower part was numbed from the floor's coldness. 

To any passerby, he appeared immersed in the tattered paper back he so studiously seemed to be reading but he was listening, hearing the conversations all around him. Whisperings and laughs. Observing all the inmates around him, people spoke a lot when they believed they were not under scrutiny, tongues loose and not really seeing the small heap of Izaya leaning against Korn's chair.

Izaya's attention flared to focus when Mitsuo Black entered the common room, with a slim male in tow and it didn't leave a lot to the imagination to fill in the gaps. 

He stood up, joints creaking, feeling his legs protest movement after a long period of immobility.

Adrenaline pooled within him and he kept his movements casual as he approached Black, sitting at his usual table and rubbing his companion's thigh under the table.

He was distantly aware of the room getting quieter as people noticed Izaya's route but no one touched him or stopped him. This was a dangerous game altogether. 

Izaya sat on the table, right in Black's line of vision. He honestly was beginning to feel the high of action, to taste the anticipation and everything was coalescing together into his little plan now and for once he felt like the dictator here. Here he felt like he was constantly trying to bend solid metal like the prison bars that kept him inside this den.

Control felt good within his grasp and he felt his head clear a little of confusion, felt the fear that filled the chambers of his heart bleed out a little for once, even if he was staring at danger right in its face. It was a good rush nonetheless.

Black raised a bushy eyebrow at Izaya, there was a stillness to him that alerted Izaya that his ministrations below the table had ceased. He had his attention.

"I hear you're looking for the person that leaked information on your outside drugs network," Izaya began, slurring his words to a drawl. He put an arm behind him, against the wood to anchor him, this was all a game. A conversation of hidden meanings and body expressions of ease to make the other party believe you are calm.

Black tilted his head to the side, surveying Izaya, his companion was quiet and docile behind him.

He could feel the weight of attention from his dear inmates but he kept his eyes trained on Black's unnatural blue. Blue on red, it was always them colours against each other in games but who could win this? 

"Do you have information on the rat?" Black asked carefully. This was not a mindless man, this man had control and Izaya was in proximity of such control, it made him feel relieved. 

"Yes, would you like to know?" Izaya asked conspiratorially, narrowing his eyes. He had overheard it, made his deductions by piecing together all the conversations and now he had a safe pass into Black's domain. 

Black threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh.

"Does Heiwajima know that his bitch is playing with fire?" Black chuckled and suddenly gold was invading their red versus blue game, seeping into Izaya's plan and brain until he wanted to dig crescent marks three inches into the skin beneath his nails.

Shizuo's bitch. Izaya was not anyone's bitch. 

He couldn't keep reign on his temper, it was as if Shizuo had sucked all his calm and in exchange, Izaya was left with this ugly emotion that distorted everything into rage.

"I take it you do not want to know," Izaya said, proud that his voice remained even.

Black appeared a little taken aback by the colder atmosphere or the intensity of Izaya's glare but still continued with his chuckles.

"I'll find out soon but not by owing Heiwajima's bitch, tell him to bend you over further to keep you trained," he smirked.

Everything was collapsing slowly again, into little pieces around Izaya, stealing his sense of everything. Was he losing his touch in here? Why were the things conjured up by him through careful planning not aligning to success? Why did Black's words make him flush hard with a shame deeply buried within?

And suddenly he realised everyone was staring, hearing, observing him and Izaya should not be the recipient of being studied and his anger was about to topple over and consume him a whole and he was moving, walking stiffly and ducking out of the common room to the shelter of the little space he and Shizuo shared and there sat the monster on his bed, oblivious and scratching at his hair.

Shizuo glanced up to where Izaya stood at a standstill, golden eyes appraising him and it wasn't fair, it just wasn't.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Shizuo asked with a frown, attention away from the book he had been reading before Izaya had slammed the door behind them. 

Agitation laced the blood flowing in Izaya's veins and he scrunched up his face, again Shizuo could understand his expressions, his moods oh so easily. He was too damn perspective and that was a liability. 

"Why do people think I'm your bitch," Izaya could barely get the words spat out.

"Arent you?"

Izaya blinked, once, twice and stared at Shizuo.

"Excuse me?" voice skipping octaves higher than usual, on a disbelief, on an indignation. Izaya unconsciously took a step closer.

"You always followed me around like a little bitch, annoyed me like a bitch, stuck to me like a bitch," Shizuo answered, his lips twisting a sneer and there it was, both enemies were in a bad mood and the tiny room wasn't enough to contain it, it blazed, flames licking, red and gold clashing into bright embers of flames.

"Shizuo, be careful," Izaya said in a very quiet tone, fists clenching and now he really was digging his nails into his flesh to remain grounded.

Shizuo stood up in one fluid motion and Izaya wasn't looming over the beast anymore.

"Why? Feeling your manhood threatened? Are fleas able to feel that emotion?" Shizuo growled, his eyes darkening. Why was he letting his characteristic anger shine now and why was it so mild? As if it was a dull imitation of the rage that used to be Heiwajima Shizuo.

"I don't have your level of mindless testosterone stupid beast but I am a man," Izaya hissed, taking steps back for every step Shizuo stalked forth. 

"Is that what stopped you before? Want me to show you how you feel like a man in here?" Shizuo smiled viciously and there was the eerie calm once again, barely contained with the violence that swirled around them.

Before Izaya could bite back a remark Shizuo had closed the gap between them, his back had hit the stained wall with a dull thunk, Izaya looked over Shizuo's back, wondering his capability to duck out of his reach and throw the wooden chair that Izaya had pulled inside from the common room and lug it at Shizuo before the beast did.

Shizuo lifted his hand and Izaya was about to swerve right but that route was cut off by Shizuo's hand landing on his hip to his right side, a thumb ground bruises to Izaya's hipbone and fingers curled to complete the grip.

"You've got me Shizu-chan," Izaya smirked not even feeling any fear, just a thrum of adrenaline that always came with Shizuo because was it worth it anymore, meeting his ends just by Shizuo in a place where there were so many ways to meet his end was poetic.

"Yes, I've got you," Shizuo replied and Izaya would deny that a shiver went down his spine at the bartitone of his voice. The bruising in his jaw had faded, he had clearly just shaved and his eyes were dilated in anger, another little thing inside Izaya snapped. 

But the forgotten fear rose and flared into panic as Shizuo lifted his other hand and started unzipping Izaya's jumpsuit in one quick line. 

"What-what are you doing?" Izaya questioned with widened eyes. The flat of the wall behind him was cold but Izaya was starting to feel warm and confused.

"Showing you how you feel like a man here," Shizuo said simply, as if he were offering a solution to a simple problem and suddenly Shizuo was dropping down and tugging Izaya's boxers halfway down his hipbones before Izaya had even an inkling of idea about what was going on.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya rasped, feeling alarm well within him, his own hands were on Shizuo's trying to unsuccessfully pry them off. Tiny his hands were tiny against Shizuo's. 

But Shizuo simply played no heed and this could not be happening as he watched Shizuo's lips blow air over his dick and a second later open to tease his tip inside his mouth.

Izaya's head fell back against the wall and his back automatically arched as Shizuo swallowed all of him to the hilt and he was consumed by unbearable heat.

His heart beat a broken tempo that flowed blood to his cheek and spread down his neck as Shizuo's head bobbed up and down. 

Izaya choked out a stuttering exhale, not being able to move away from the tantalising mouth or thrust forward into the heat with Shizuo holding his two hands on Izaya's hip and imprinting bruises onto his skin as if it was evidence for the unbelievable act that was happening. 

He blinked his blurry vision down to Shizuo and nearly whimpered at the sight of a glassy eyed, tousled haired Shizuo swallowing around his cock, taking it in as if it was no bother, lips so wet around him it made hin feel weak and shaken.

What the hell was going on? How was this even an event in his life, how was he-og fuck it felt so good, Izaya lifted the back of his hand to his lips to stifle the groan that ripped past his lips.

Shizuo looked up at Izaya and something inside jolted with the eye contact and his control slipped just like the white, hot flash that slipped through his body. 

Shizuo licked a stripe along the underside of his dick and Izaya was straining, pushed completely beyond the edge and he had to get him off.

"Mffh Shizu-" Izaya tried pushing Shizuo's head away with his hands but he just gripped Izaya tighter, suctioned his cheeks a little further, sucked a little harder and Izaya had folded himself in two completely over Shizuo as his thighs trembled and only Shizuo's hold was keeping him up. 

His awareness was flickering away to just sensation, the heat that engulfed him, the sweat that was coating his body, the panting and wet sounds that filled the room, he really needed to move his hips, it was too much, too much.

He spilled into Shizuo's mouth in shivering bursts, making tiny, broken gasping sounds as he met his release a little too quickly for his liking. 

Shizuo eased his grip, rubbing a circle to Izaya's hipbones that almost won another whimper from him.

Izaya felt light headed as Shizuo stood up and could only manage to slur a "What the fuck happened to you in prison?" again as Shizuo nimbly zipped up his jumpsuit. 

"There's a solitary room here," Shizuo said in answer still holding onto a shakey Izaya. 

"A what?" Izaya said, his voice cracking, feeling exasperated, after the act the monster had committed on him, he was going to give reason by that sentence? He looked at Shizuo feeling his cheeks gain a red hue when his sight landed on Shizuo's swollen lips. He had swallowed everything and it made Izaya blush harder.

Fuck them lips had been wrapped around his cock and Izaya had enjoyed it, had let his control slip and shatter so easily. He had liked it much better than when he allowed a girl to try it on him in highschool, he hadn't liked it at all and chalked it up with him lacking connection with the serial proclivities of humans. A hot flush of shame surged through him and he was looking at the floor again, shrugging off Shizuo's support. 

Shizuo simply let him go, moving a span of a few inches back and Izaya could finally breathe through the knot of tension lodged in his throat. 

"When I arrived here, I was so fucking mad, all I saw was red, fists, blood, everything breaking and all I did was fight, every second day I was sent into this white solitary room for punishment. It's just white walls and you. I fantasised about crushing you everyday until the thought lost a bit of meaning until I started thinking of why did Izaya always come from me," Shizuo informed him flatly, probably staring at the top of Izaya's bowed head. 

He didn't like being looked down upon, he didn't like the topic they were discussing, he didn't like that he still felt breathless over Shizuo's stunt.

Gaps, he kept gaps in his head, he kept things trapped into boxes before thoughts or feelings gained traction. 

"I think you know what the reason is Izaya-kun 'cause I figured it out," Shizuo said in a lower register by Izaya's ear. 

Izaya lifted his head up too, felt defiance in the line of his shoulders and the heavy beating of his heart. His heart increased pace as he forced himself to look at Shizuo. The room was too silent and the tension that permeated the room wasn't entirely anger or hate. 

"Because I hate monsters," he gritted out before pushing Shizuo and his red lips away and fled even the tiny room that had felt like a little breather the past few days.  
He let his anger curdle to bitterness and his lips grimaced a self deprecating smile. Izaya really had nowhere to go, he was truly trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels rushed as I've been so busy celebrating school finishing and to be honestly I just really want to write the next chapter more than this because I have something randomly sad planned?? Soz for the poor smut attempt opps


	5. My cellmate's a killer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such encouraging, motivating comments, it brings me joy<3  
> Sorry for the delay I was on a holiday.

"Yer mind ain't even on the game boy," Korn commented, blinking up at Izaya with confusion. 

Izaya's grip tightened on the cool of the chess piece in his grasp, his attention was fixated on Shizuo behind them, Shizuo conversing with Mitsuo Black, what the fuck were they talking about? How to bend bitches backwards?  Fuck, Izaya's temper was already rising, Black was chuckling and Shizuo was expressionless,  Shizuo lifted his gaze to meet Izaya and Izaya tilted his vision down, moved the chess piece in his hand and swooped in and claimed Korn's bishop.

Being known as warming Shizuo's bed could have benefits, Izaya did realise a little unease in the men who used to openly ogle at him but even with positive results it had caused a massive hit to Izaya's pride and sanity.   

"Maybe I'm faking Korn-san, you should be the one paying attention," Izaya managed a playful quirk of his lips, feeling his body grow hot with the weight of attention from Shizuo and his focus was skidding again. This was becoming troublesome. 

"Or yer just good at running this game in the background of your big head. What's wrong?" Korn asked as he made a simple sideways movement with a pawn. Korn was perspective, held the uncanny instincts to know things and packed a mean chess game with his sharp mind, it was the only entertainment factor to Izaya's prison life besides books.

Well old man, my long term enemy of over a decade sucked my popsicle as I watched and busted my load and now I cannot stop thinking of it. 

It's been three days and I can't muster eye contact or a word. 

My throat feels dry right now thinking of it and it's etched into the matters of my brain to flash images back to my mind even when I screw my eyes shut. 

I'm losing grasp of myself.

"Nothing, just prison," Izaya replied, feeling the word shape into bitterness in his mouth and keeping his eyes on the black and white patterns of the chessboard and the pieces that adored it.

Even with his facade in place he wasn't fooling Korn, the only one he was fooling was himself.

////

It took a lot of deliberation and prolonging for Izaya to finally decide to slip out of his room at what he estimated was the middle of the night, he was beginning to feel disgusting, already the leering stares of his inmates made his skin prickle with revulsion and the limited showering methods he had adapted just weren't working for him.

Izaya couldn't decide what was more dangerous, sneaking around for shower in the space when he could run into a single individual or when it's teeming with inmates but he couldn't take the itching feeling within him anymore. He had to erase it with a cool spray of water, he was becoming infested.

The hallways which were usually dark at day seemed to impossibly appear darker, they loomed before Izaya's vision and heightened his senses, raising his heartbeat to a fluttering thrum at his ear. He couldn't parse the adrenaline as pleasure yet, his skin was itching still, perhaps when he reached the shower stall he would enjoy the danger, the anonymity that hid behind shadows or perhaps exposure to all the daily danger had muted Izaya's inner thrill seeking ways. Prison was changing him and he hadn't even spent the guts of a month here as of now.

He crept down the hall, raising his arms to feel the walls around him, keeping slow because even if he was a natural thrill seeker, Izaya was a cautious man, his steps were careful, barely carrying the weight of sound and and his breathing was a steady rhythm and there was the opening of a bathroom.

Triumph perhaps made him lose focus because he had arrived at the front of the bathroom without any altercation, that knowledge made him stupid, made him not realise the presence behind him.

Cold hands winded around his neck causing Izaya's eyes to widen and bulge and only see black even though his eyes were blown open, his breath shuttered as his hand landed on the wooden paneling of the bathroom and tightened his grasp on the wood to anchor him as the person's grip behind him tightened in an identical response. 

He wasn't only seeing black now, his vision was swimming with white spots, floating and merging as if to mock him and Izaya choked out a shuddering noise, feeling the bruises imprint on his skin, feeling the pressure of the hold cause an odd pressure to burn the back of his eyes and pool into a strange residue that slid down his face.

Izaya clawed at the assailant's hand, making gasping noises and felt his lungs failing him. He couldn't die, he couldn't disintegrate into nothing or amount into an element in the ground, he needed to leave, he could feel fear grip him tighter than the hold of his attacker, could feel it spread to weaken his body and all of his senses were leaving him, reducing him to limpness.

"You look jus' like him," a disembodied voice said at his ear and Izaya's awareness flared to focus as disbelief and betrayal raged to push his elbow in a sharp backward movement into the soft flesh of a stomach.

A recognised grunt echoed the empty hallway, a loosened hold was enough for Izaya to twist away from Korn and  blink in disbelief at the silhouette of the familiar shape that kept him grounded as a constant throughout this ordeal.

Korn pushed forward in the void of darkness, his movements disjointed as if something was influencing him, like he couldn't control the functions of his body, Izaya tried to squint to see the expression Korn held, what caused this madness but the darkness was all-encompassing. Korn clumsily reached forward with a curse but Izaya had broken out to a run, survival becoming his main objective rather than trying to figure his supposed friend out, swerving the dark corridors that he was glad he had memorised and sucking in greedy lungfuls of air down his swollen neck.

He wrenched open the door to his and Shizuo's room and closed it with a resounding slam that promised to wake the beast but Izaya wasn't thinking of that, his head was swimming with images and sounds of companionship that he had shared with Korn, distorting the images and sounds into something menacing, something twisted and raw like the feeling that caused his neck to ache.

He felt around the wall, fumbling for a light switch even as he heard Shizuo sleepily mumble "Izaya?" in the dark and stir in his sleep.

He didn't like this blackness, he needed to see, his heart was still beating fear and his veins were transporting it all around his body and making him feel heavy, making him want to admit defeat.

He finally flicked on the light switch, eyes blinking a few times to adjust to the light. He was looking right at Shizuo who had half dragged himself up in a sitting position, who was also blinking blearily and frowning until his eyes landed on Izaya's face and traveled to his neck, his expression morphed to one of alarm and Izaya's core was trembling again.

Shizuo stood up, made a movement as if to go to Izaya and Izaya felt disorientated and betrayed and a hoarse, "Don't" wrenched itself from his bruised neck because what was even happening around him? He had always been okay to never have anyone, not realising he had people until they betrayed him and reduced him to a shaking mess. 

Shizuo's movement stalled and he opened his mouth to say something and Izaya wanted to screw his eyes shut but suddenly an alarm was blaring too loudly to break the eerie silence of night and cause a rush of awareness to race back to Izaya.

"What's that?" Izaya whispered, eyes fixed on Shizuo, licking his lips because they felt too dry.

Shizuo's eyebrows knit together and he raised his hand and let it drop again with a jerk.

"That alarm usually goes off when the prison is going into lockdown, usually when someone is killed," Shizuo provided, his eyes still swimming with concern and questions.

Izaya's blood ran cold until his body felt chilled and he was turning around again to open the door and run back the way he had come from again.

Distantly he heard "Oi Izaya," but he ignored Shizuo's gruff call, barely heard him following behind him frantically. The hallways were now illuminated, as if an automatic system had turned the lights on, it couldn't be good. Brighter, the while walls felt more oppressing than when they were darkened by lack of light. 

Distantly he also registered a lot of sound coming from his destination, the front of the bathroom where he had escaped Korn and when he turned the corner, the area was blocked by guards hunched over a figure writhing on the ground and oh God there was so much blood trickling down the floor and a figure that he assumed to be Shizuo behind him inhaled a sharp breath and Izaya didn't know why that breath sounded loud in the chaos of everything.

Whimpering sounds echoed the corridor and ceased within the minute Izaya stood there trying to process everything. 

A stocky guard stood up, removing himself from the body convulsing on the floor and turned to Shizuo and Izaya with an icy eyed glare.

"You heard the alarms, to your rooms before you're locked out," he snapped shortly.

"What's happening," that was Shizuo asking, sounding edgy, sounding reasonable in this whole distorted affair.

Izaya's bare feet automatically took a step back, he felt like the bones of his feet would buckle and collapse in on themselves to drop Izaya to the floor any minute. Had Korn ever cared?

The guard appraised Shizuo, doing a little double take when he noticed the signature blond locks and tall stature.

"Korn finally hit the crazy, saw his reflection in the mirror and you know his obsession with his dead son, saw his eyes resembled his son and started gouging 'em out, the rambling woke everyone and so many drugs are in his system, he probably wont make it," he explained in a clipped tone, his voice sounded drowned out to Izaya's ears, on the precipice of reality but not making it to solidness to Izaya's awareness. 

"Shouldn't you be rolling him to hospital," Shizuo demanded, anger lacing his tone, he took a step forward and the guard touched the pads of his fingers over his holster.

"Do not interfere, get to your rooms," he ordered, a few guards also rose from the floor, taking a hostile stance, completely disregarding the now still lump of Korn on the floor, but Izaya's eyes were on the grotesque face.

Furrowed eyebrows framing over self inflicted, disfigured eyes that were openly leaking blood onto the white floor, painting a canvas to taunt Izaya into insanity. That was Korn, deranged Korn bleeding out to death on the floor, surrounded by people who wouldn't help him, judging by his stillness the man could already be dead, Izaya had never detected any mania within the man. Had almost felt softened by the affection the man showed due to Izaya's resemblance to his son, he had used the companionship as a safety blanket, it spoke a lot about Izaya's own shattering mindset that he hadn't known the true nature of this man's crazy.

Two madmen had conversed over chess for seventeen days.

Had Korn been grooming him for death since the day his sick mind established the similarity between his son and Izaya?

His blurry vision had changed, the whitened corridors took up Izaya's view, he was being pulled away from the scene by Shizuo and he hadn't even noticed, his feet stumbled through the steps but he didn't struggle because inside his mind was struggling, raging, thoughts knocking into each other and violently ricocheting to pound pain to Izaya's temple. He was going to get sick, with each throb of his head the image of his attempted murderer slash friend punched into his thoughts. 

"He shoulda been in the psych ward, the whole system's fucked," Shizuo was complaining to an unresponsive Izaya, leading him back by a steady hand on his bicep.

A crumpled figure, crying blood through his eyes, convulsing because of drugs and craziness, dying, everything was withering.

The door to their bedroom closing behind them as they stepped in.

The light was still on for which Izaya was grateful, grateful for the tiny room barely containing  a bunk bed. 

Cold hands imprinting bruises and pain and betrayal to Izaya, ghost touches that still throbbed pain around the span of his neck.

Shizuo turning around to look at him and blinking several times, his touch on his arm a point for Izaya to stay orientated.

"Oi Izaya, are you alright?" a faraway voice, questions with panic saturating the tone, not enough to break into Izaya's head space though.

"Hey, hey," a warm, large hand cupping his cheek, brushing a thumb against the residue that was openly leaking from his eyes like the blood that drained Korn of life.

He was backed up onto the bed, falling easily like a limp doll, the warm hand following him, the bed was soft, the figure leaning on him or was he leaning on him was warm, so solid and Izaya was lost.

"Fuck Izaya, match your breathing with me, come on just breathe with me," it was gruff and familiar and panicked and Izaya knew deep within the recesses of his mind that he should do what the voice said but his breath was coming out shakey and too fast, the pressure was too hard behind his eyes and something was writhing in his chest, contorting to stop his body from functioning, paralysing him.

The warm body, it was Shizuo, he knew it was Shizuo because it was always Shizuo wormed around the space and picked up something from under the bed as he bent forward, leaving Izaya to feel cold and feel fragments of his awareness try to creep back. It was like trying to fish out a tiny shell of a cracked egg in a bowl.

The warmth, Shizuo, returned, raised a bottle to Izaya's mouth and Izaya's lips automatically sucked the cool liquid down past the tension of his throat.

The water spread down his body like relief.

The bottle was removed and discarded without care, Izaya was gently pushed back to the bed and Shizuo followed, lay side by side to Izaya, radiated heat and solidness if Izaya tried hard enough to focus.

Shizuo's hand curled around his waist, tilted him to his side easily to face him, dragged him closer and Izaya could almost taste the smell of cigarettes and shitty soap and something just distinctively Shizuo, just-

"Breathe, breathe with me," Shizuo said quietly, tightening his hold, rubbing down his back in soothing motions and Izaya could feel Shizuo's stubble on his cheek, could feel his support and still warm body and imitated it to stop the trembling of his body. Parts of their limbs were pressed together, and Shizuo could definitely feel Izaya shaking.  

His conscious flickered to focus as soon as he realised that he, Orihara Izaya was receiving comfort from his enemy, nesting in his den to show all of his weaknesses in a disgusting display.

He stiffened completely.

"I'm fine now, Shizu-chan, let me up," he managed in a hushed whisper. 

Shizuo's eyes were bright and open so close to him, he could track the motions of his lips when he talked. 

"No you're not, I knew I should've told you to stay away from the guy but I thought it was just a weird mad guys bonding kinda friendship, I knew the guy was in for homicide of young boys tha' looked like his son, he was fucked up, I should've told you," Shizuo said too damn earnestly, he shuffled a little out of Izaya's space, kept his arm loosely still bound around Izaya's waist and Izaya felt lost again.

Korn had said he was a thief not some low shot serial killer, deceit, humans were liars. Izaya wasn't enjoying humanity, wasn't enjoying unpredictability.

Shizuo's finger traced a line on Izaya's neck causing him to inhale sharply through his nose, had the room always been raised to such temperatures?

The touch conveyed questions and confusion and revolting concern.

"Tell me about him," Izaya requested quietly, blinking the last bit of liquid out of his eyes rapidly. The brightened room stripped Izaya of any coverage and suddenly he craved for the lights to be off again. 

"Izaya-"

"Tell me."

They both heard the click of their room being locked from the outside but strangely Izaya didn't feel trapped. 

"Must've lost his son, started killing people that looked like him, must've been too drugged up tonight and saw his son in himself," Shizuo said with another brush of his finger against his neck that threatened more of Izaya's sanity. 

Shizuo's eyes shouldn't look like that, Korn shouldn't be this completely different character, Izaya had gravely misjudged, would Korn have attacked him if he hadn't been drugged up, had Korn ever cared? Had ever put vitality to their newborn friendship like Izaya stupidly had? Or had he been too broken in the head?  

Was Korn dead? Izaya swallowed down his swollen, dry throat.

"The guards wont help him," Izaya let the sentence be a statement because he knew it was the truth.

Shizuo grimly shook his head, his blond locks looked like a halo to Izaya's irritated and blurry vision.

Another stroke of Shizuo's finger on his bruises, gentle, barely a touch, why Shizuo didn't crush his windpipe was a mystery to Izaya.

"Are you familiar with Hamlet Shizu-chan?" Izaya asked, his voice sounding odd in the air, he was looking at the confused, gold orbs that haunted his nightmares.

"What?" Shizuo asked, stopping his ministrations.

"Imperious Caesar dead and turn'd to clay was one of my favourite quote from Hamlet's soliloquies, it means all humans, regardless of their social standing, regardless of all their achievements will rot to dust on the ground," Izaya responded flatly.

Death, it was something Izaya couldn't conquer, it shadowed him, teaming up with time and laughed at him till he dwindled down into the insignificance he always ran away from. 

"Stop being fucking cryptic flea, your neck's a wreck and you won't even explain that," Shizuo growled, but it was a gentle growl, as if it was for Izaya's benefit. He felt smaller.

"I wanna go to my bed," Izaya requested, listlessly.

Friction as he was dragged across the bed to the warmth of Shizuo again, his face was pushed to bury in Shizuo's chest and Izaya felt his body start to tense again.

"Just fucking sleep here, you had a panic attack and saw that and all," tighter, he was held, embraced, comforted and Shizuo was too giving, dipped his fingers into poison too much.

Izaya wriggled but his heart wasn't really in it, all his energy felt sapped and all his adrenaline had been replaced by a heavy boned tiredness. Shizuo pulled the blanket that was more like a sheet around them but for once Izaya wasn't cold as Shizuo was a human furnace.

"Sleep," Shizuo said, lips against Izaya's hair, he put a leg between Izaya's, simply tangling them and letting his body go lax, so easily. 

In a couple of years when Izaya was reduced to dust, decayed by death, it wouldn't matter that Izaya succumbed to this vulnerability.

That should've been the only comforting thing that lulled him to the vestiges of sleep but the warm body, the scent, the steady breathing against his body, the proximity of Shizuo, the drag of a hand flatly on his back were the main factors in throwing Izaya into a dreamless pit of black sleep.

That was not comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me to me: psshtt your tags look so dark this story ain't even dark.  
> Me to me: but there's suicide  
> Me to me: it's all cool not dark at all
> 
> But for real this chapter while writing the end made me realise I really want up explore izaya's dilemma with death????


	6. Dying wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm actually quick with an update for once, what can I say, your comments and love fuelled me.  
> Warning: non con, and slight mention of self harm.

The heavy smell of cigarettes interrupted Izaya's slumber, causing him to groan and lay on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow to access clean air. Maybe he was being burnt alive because he never woke up warm in prison or with the scent of cigarettes to pollute his breathing.

In fragments, accelerated to a blur, Izaya's awareness caught up to his sluggish thoughts and he peeled his eyes open and turned his head to the side to catch the profile of Shizuo, slouched on the bed beside him.

A cigarette decorated his hand which moved periodically to his lips and Izaya was hot all over. 

He really was burning in flames.

"It's not wise to smoke in bed," Izaya broke the silence, his voice sounding scratchy and raw to his own ears and he cringed against the sound, his neck still throbbed faintly and as last night's events started to unwind in Izaya's memory, the faint traces of a headache started pounding his head and nausea pooled his stomach. 

Shizuo tilted his head sideways to look over Izaya and Izaya was stunned for a moment as Shizuo's lips twitched slightly to a smile, it smothered the nausea in his stomach, made it blossom to something that made him feel sicker, Izaya sucked in a breath, quietly. Shizuo had two buttons on the black shirt everyone wore under their jumpsuits undone, his hair was an unruly, bed frazzled mess and Izaya had never shared the image, the feeling, the intimacy of a morning with anyone like this. It felt too intense and all too normal simultaneously, it felt like a high.

"You look like a cat," Shizuo commented, lips now fully widened to a smile that lit his eyes too bright.

Izaya's nose wrinkled and indignation shot through him like a spark, he was laughing at him.

"A grumpy cat," Shizuo cut in before Izaya could make up the syllables full of protest.

The lighthearted atmosphere contrasted heavily to how dark Izaya's mind was becoming, realising the reality of last night's events. Shizuo's sheets were bunched all along his legs as if to entangle him to the weakness he had fallen into previously. 

He couldn't understand why his emotions were running rampant and leaving him keeling, completely different than the detached personality he upheld, it seemed as if Shizuo made him turbulent and even with the peace of morning to settle around them, Izaya felt a storm brewing inside him and as Shizuo's smile died down and his eyes sparked to uncertainty and he opened his mouth to say, "What happened last night?" with his eyes tracking the lines marring Izaya's neck, a cord inside Izaya snapped and the storm toppled over to something ugly within him.

"Why the fuck are you even talking to me like this Shizu-chan?" the curse tasted like a defeat on Izaya's tongue, he rarely swore, such obscenity was for the beast.

"Cause I'm not chasing and you're not hiding anymore, we're here, together. Now tell me what happened?" Shizuo urged, the sentences falling easily through his lips like the smoke he exhaled, as if it was that easy, the cigarette was left forgotten and burning in his hands as he fixed his attention on Izaya but Izaya didn't know if he was the one that was actually burning.

"Go to hell," Izaya managed to bite out, jerking upright, he had to get away from Shizuo, away from everything and gain back rationality with isolation because Shizuo was a variable that made Izaya lose focus.

"Is that what you think will happen to you if you got with a man," Shizuo said, flatly, voice a deadly calm.

Izaya's whole attention scattered and spread out of him as if he was a permeable membrane.

"No," he blurted, something desperate edging his tone, blinking and scrambling to school his expression into something that wasn't knocked open on emotion, "That's not what this is."

"Is it not?"

Shizuo looked far too certain in his claims, to at ease with Izaya in the small bed beside him.

 He couldn't deal with this, all this baggage that buried him into shadows and feelings and he climbed over Shizuo's legs, without looking at him and Shizuo did not stop him, only crushed the cigarette in his grip and Izaya was once again jealous of a cigarette.

The resounding slam of the door was answer enough.

////

It took the guts of nearly two hours for Izaya's fury and loss to brew and curdle to an icy sense of dissociation. 

Mechanically, he washed his face not sparing a glance at his reflection, he stood a little lost on the spot where Korn had convulsed to death, just a step away from the toilet. The need to shower was what had started this and Izaya was still filthy, disgusting and contaminated. The tiles gleamed white, the blood cleaned up to erase the grotesque nature of last night but the memory was engraved in Izaya's mind. Where would his body go? Did he have any family besides the deceased son that caused him madness? 

He sat on Korn's armchair for breakfast, his food untouched on the table that supported the chess board him and Korn had shared grueling games over.

He felt empty.

People filtered around him, Stain, an inmate that liked to sit just behind Korn's armchair, whispered about his gang outside and Izaya didn't feel even a sliver of interest, he usually thrived on listening to such conversation.

He barely even engaged in his frequent conversations with the cook, something that he usually enjoyed because it linked him to the outside world. The way everyone continued their daily routine was disorientating. Izaya began to wonder if he had imagined Korn's existence or was death too much of a common occurrence here? He knew of only one that happened in his time here from gossip but God knows who else had fallen victim in the dark. Death is a natural process, Izaya's brain told him, especially here.

He exited the common room as soon as Shizuo arrived, weaving past people, and miscellaneous on the ground and turning a corridor, much further away from his cell and entering the room of a fellow inmate, Kei Tsurga, someone he knew that definitely had knives in possession. He was in Black's little smuggling ring and specialised in weapons according to his boasting during Izaya's first week here. 

He needed to feel the cool of a blade, a knife, the sharpened edge would be a relief to his mind. He couldn't believe he had gone so long without one but no matter what he would obtain one, now he understood why the depraved would sell a kidney for money.

Tsurga was sat on his bed, a short, stocky man of young thirties, his eyebrows quirked up and his lips smiled a slimey grimace that made Izaya feel like something was crawling on his flesh. The room was no different from his and Shizuo's minus the clutter of feeling more lived in. 

"What do I have to do for a knife?" Izaya asked, no pretense, straight to the point, in another mindset, he would've stretched this interaction, made it into something memorable, with quips and a drawl to accompany his voice but Izaya had realised that doing things his way never seemed to work here.

He kept his ears strained for any noise from the outside, he didn't want anyone interrupting this exchange.

If possible, Tsurga's lips stretched further and his eyes gleamed intent that Izaya could read off too easily.

He had hoped by some miracle, this would go down a different route but no, there was Tsurga's eyes sweeping his body up and down, making him uneasy and feeling the tendrils of frustration creeping up.

"Shizuo would kill you if you ask that," Izaya said feigning boredom and leaning against the wall, he folded his arms and watched Tsurga with narrowed eyes, the monster had started a lie and Izaya should use it to his full advantage, he hoped that would be enough, the fear of violence to somehow coerce Tsurga into agreement but Izaya's world wasn't so simple anymore.

"That doesn't matter," Tsurga blubbered, words working too fast, "Tell me what he does to you and I'll give one to you." He straightened to a proper sitting position, letting the sheet fall off his lap and continued to smile.

Izaya got the memo.

It made him feel like he had condemned himself to rolling in a pigsty, nausea and anger threatened to break the empty, numbness he tried to desperately grasp onto and it took him a full minute to work over the burst of emotion and press it down to flatness. 

"He fucks me fast and hard," his voice sounded distant, his eyes fixed on a point on Tsurga's nose.

He didn't look down to see the man's hand creep down to his slacks to palm himself.

"Continue," he grunted, and Izaya felt bile rise up his throat. He needed a knife, to stab things over and over again and create something new, first thing he'd do being cutting Shizuo into fury with it, again and again until things made sense.

"He barely gets a finger in me before I'm stretching around his cock," Izaya continued listlessly, letting his head rest on the wall behind him.

 This wasn't happening, talk past the lump in your throat. Damn it. He had to do this. The lies came easy to his mind but to bare them to this man as his eyes raked over Izaya like he was meat was difficult.

Tsurga moaned at his words, panting and stroking rapidly over himself and Izaya could barely watch the scene. He couldn't believe he had gotten to this point in his life, he tried not to grit his teeth, tried not to dig his nails too hard into his skin.

"He likes to choke me, look at the marks around my neck, I'm barely breathing by the time I'm covered in his cum and then he bends me over till I take him again and again-" with a shout, Tsurga came, embarrassingly fast in Izaya's opinion, a twisting mess on the sheet and Izaya's hands were shaking by the time he caught the knife, that arced across the room when Tsurga threw it, after he had recovered from his release.

"Come back if you want another," the disgusting worm purred, ignoring him and feeling his core shake, Izaya slammed the door for a second time that day.

//// 

Surprisingly, the first victim to feel the wrath of Izaya's knife was not Shizuo. It happened the day after he had even obtained the blade, quicker than Izaya had anticipated. It was foolish and reckless. 

He had slept restlessly, avoiding Shizuo's attention with the sheet stretched all over his frame and face to block the world away, he dreamed of the usual dying bull crap and when he woke up feeling empty and disgusting with Tsurga's leery eyes to track his movements all morning, Izaya was not to put it mildly, in a good mood. He felt disgusting inside out as if he were rotting.

Izaya didn't cry, not since infancy. He may let a few tears stream past his eyes in laughter but to feel so close to dissolving to crying for two days in a row made him feel like he was losing.

Before he knew it, before he had even given instruction to his brain, reflex muscles and turbulent emotions won out, the blade had sunk into the flesh of the man that tried jumping Izaya the moment he took off his shirt to try and shower and stop feeling like dirt. 

Distantly he thought showers were too much trouble, really, it kept leading to violence, he found the thought funny for some odd reason as he clasped the hilt of the blade tightly and cleanly took it out of the rapidly bleeding side of the man.

He began laughing.

Even as the man shrieked in agony, falling to the ground as soon as the blade was taken out of his body, it wasn't a life threatening injury, his mind deducted without inflection.

If the body had just fallen a metre back, it could've collapsed onto the nonexistent imprint of the area Korn had died on and that truly would've been fascinating.

He was still laughing as guards took a grip of him, hands wrapping around his forearm like a vice and tugging him wherever, he did not know nor did he care. How quick they were to respond to this when usually Shizuo had to do their job when rape was involved, a burst of giddy laughter spilled past his lips again at all the irony. 

He caught a glimpse of Shizuo's shocked face as he was pushed past the common room, he curved his lips just the perfect combination of condensation and predator like, a grin that always infuriated Shizuo but Shizuo still looked stunned, half already standing from his sitting position as if he was going to come after Izaya and Izaya was pulled away like a limp doll before he could see anything and really did they need to be so rough? He stumbled his steps, nearly lifted off the floor by the flanking guards, one guard would've sufficed, this was all too hilariously excessive. 

A door opened, the hold on Izaya loosened as he was shoved violently inside and the door was slung shut, clicking from the outside to sound his total imprisonment. 

Izaya looked around, the morbid humour dying on his lips to a flatline, observing the room. 

So this was solitary. 

White. Everything was white, a room emptier than Izaya was and Izaya thought the colour black felt endless and all too condemning to look at. The only disturbance in the room was a cracked indent in the wall, hollowing to look like a punch mark.

Oh Shizuo.

Izaya sat down against the mark on the wall, curling to have his knees in front of him and rested his head against them, he realised with a jolt that he was shaking, his mind was static, swirling with too many pictures and sounds.

Namie, Korn, his family, Tsurga, Black haunted him for the next hour, rotating around his brain in circles like clothes in a washing machine and then nothing.

His thoughts chased endless routes that didn't amount to anything, he couldn't shut down his thought process lingering on topics he didn't want to think about and now he understood what Shizuo had suffered for the first month of his term and how that had shaped Shizuo to who he was now and with his temper and violence, he would've landed himself in this void of a place many times.

Anyone would lose their sense of self and sanity here, anyone would burn through many thoughts and scenerios and Izaya could not exercise any sense of order here. The walls closed in on him, oppressing,  then spread out to be too far and Izaya felt a sense of vertigo wash through him. 

He had wedged his knife down his pant leg in the flurry of everything, and he pulled it out and stared at the blood that stained it. 

He swiped it once over his stomach, it did nothing to make him feel, not even the bite of pain to pull him to life but the little colour of red at least looked nice, red truly looked pretty accompanying white and he tucked the knife away, his shaking had subsided and his thoughts still swam around sluggishly.

The thought of Shizuo haunted his mind for the longest in isolation until all his vision was consumed by white and his thoughts were dulled to background incantations.

He wondered briefly if this was what dying was like, his body deceased and his mind floating around. a ghost of himself, swirling to mist until he was nothing and every element of him was obliterated.

He had never craved to be with Shizuo so badly, locked in this limbo of nothing.

Shizuo, at least made him feel alive and burning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phewf, okay this chapter felt weird to write, it's so difficult to get into Izaya's mindset, sometimes I'm lost in it, sometimes I can barely get it so this chapter felt flat to me, idk I feel like I'm not adding description at all, my word count feels small, I've always just been with the dialogue. 
> 
> Next chapter: let's not make my child suffer anymore, Shizuo I need you here okay.


	7. I'll kiss your lips again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: my ass is numb right now from sitting in the same position on my laptop and typing this for four hours rip

The first spot of colour Izaya saw besides the dooming white was the shadow of black, specifically of a guard towering over Izaya, he has no sound memory of being pulled out of the solitary room, or sensory memory, the guards did grip hard, they did make taunts but they were faceless and nothing registered. They were saying things to Izaya, words shaping to sound at their lips probably warnings and digs, Izaya did not know. Reality took a moment to take traction and reaffirm to images to Izaya's mind. 

It had been a timeless night, a void of a memory to Izaya, he didn't even know if he had been locked up for a night, couldn't fit a time frame for his isolation in solitary. When had he stabbed the guy in the bathroom? Did he receive medical care? Questions began to start blooming in Izaya's mind as the coloured world outside took shape around him. 

Izaya's legs shook as soon as the bearded guard released him, losing the rough support, his legs threatened to give out after being hunched over himself for such a prolonged period, blinking, he realised he had been dropped off to the common room and the only reason he hadn't noticed in the first place was because a hush had descended as soon as Izaya had been placed in the room.

Feeling his senses heighten with the attention honing in on him, Izaya stared out at the sea of faces reflected back at him. So many wretched personalities bleeding into one another to be a festering mass of violence that were gauging Izaya's behavior with unerring collectiveness, of course he could pick out Black's smirking face, blue eyes sparkling with some sort of intent he couldn't fathom on him, he could feel Tsurga's greasy stare and Izaya exhaled quietly, squirmed his toe on the ground, trying to establish some form of strength that would stop his knees feeling weak, with his head raised and his shoulders a determined line of unwavering pretense of strength, Izaya walked forward, cautiously weaving his way past the assortment of inmates. He knew how to hold himself against the view of people sizing him up, he had been involved with underground activities for so long that it was unfair he was faring so bad in prison, it really should be his forte, he should be in his element. 

A beat passed and everyone slowly started to breathe back to life, doing whatever their miserable selves were up to before Izaya showed up to not provide the entertainment they had anticipated.

Izaya felt a strong sense of deja vu wash over him, it was just like the day he had shoved a shoe down the bald guy's neck, no one challenged him when he established a form of strong hold. 

That was the key to his survival. 

My life is a circus, Izaya thought slowly, ducking out of the common room and shaking off the lingering scrutiny of his fellow inmates. He almost welcomed the dark corridor, as long as he couldn't see the painted white colour of them.

Tsurga made his stomach feel heavy on a sickness, a disgust but he would be easy to deal with, a simple blade threatened at his dick would stop him getting hard in Izaya's presence, stop his stupid staring that fused irritation and discomfort to Izaya's body. What made Izaya uneasy was Black's smirking face, laughing at him silently, as if he knew something that Izaya wasn't aware of, the man was the real danger and Izaya regretted ever associating with him, even though at the time he hadn't seemed interested in Izaya's actions, now he was overwhelming him with his attention and really it was worrying and Izaya would investigate but Izaya was too exhausted to even mull that thought over.

He was relieved to find the bathroom free, although that wouldn't last long, he utilised the moment of emptiness, to rush to the grimy sink and rinse his mouth and face.

He stared at his haunted reflection in the mirror, his eyes lacked the amused light he usually carried because he was usually interested in everything, dark veins swirled beneath his eyes, his hair was a little wet from where Izaya ran water over it but it was still matted and disgusting and he just looked so worn, defeated.

He had the urge to punch the already cracked mirror but that was such a mindless Shizuo sort of action to perform, he resisted from doing so. 

Tomorrow, he promised himself, as he washed his crimson hands, digging out the dry blood that was stained under his nails, tomorrow, I'll glue myself to a whole piece and stop feeling weak.

He needed to really think things over, scratch any other plans he had and make a new one, he had a knife in possession now, he held the inmates' momentary respect right now, he knew the worst experience was solitary, he knew he had Black's attention and what factors to manipulate and start fitting pieces together but tomorrow, he was too wrecked and drained of life right now. He let his shoulders slump, he couldn't hold them up any longer. 

He heard scuffling behind him and of course Izaya couldn't have a quiet moment to himself, he twisted around and nearly turned back around again because there was Shizuo, walking right up to him his face grim and Izaya's vision raked over him, drinking him in and god he had missed the charged air that always came with Shizuo. Shizuo seemed to take up the whole space of the small bathroom easily and Izaya had been wondering where the protozoan was sulking because when he was scanning the sea of faces he hadn't been able find blond locks fading to brown anywhere. 

Shizuo stood in front of him, seeming to also take him in just as much as Izaya was, it made his skin start to tingle. His tired body flaring to life just by Shizuo's presence. 

"That was an interesting experience Shizu-chan," Izaya said with a grin that didn't stretch too far, he was against the tiled wall of the bathroom and Shizuo was just before him within touching distance and he had to quieten many thoughts inside him, but this was okay now, he wasn't in solitary now, where his mind could run riot, here he could control himself, here he could tamp down his emotions to nonexistence.

Shizuo's face was a canvas of emotions, incredulous, exasperation, anger, disbelief and annoyance. It was beautiful to see so many range of feelings flit across his face, for a monster, he wore too many human masks. 

"Makes you realise a few things doesn't it?" Shizuo asked with a tilt of his head and Izaya felt as if he had just been punched to the gut, Shizuo just always knew, every single thing about him seemed to be displayed before his enemy at ease even if Izaya mastered a poker face.

He wondered who really was the open canvas here. 

"What do you want?" Izaya said shortly, exhaling past the tension and smoothing his expression.

The bathroom grew smaller to Izaya's mind, every detail fading away to only be the outline and shape of the man before him. 

"I'll stand at the door, you shower," Shizuo replied, knocking any thought process Izaya's mind was taking to blankness, the idiot always managed to shock him. 

Izaya's whole system did a double take and he couldn't even hide his surprise and incredulity, before spurting a staggered "W-what," out.

Shizuo scrunched his features slightly, giving him a confused idiotic look and god the monster was so-so ugly, that was the word he was looking for, the crease of his skin between his eyebrows, the scrunch of his nose, the line of his mouth-

"You keep trying to shower and failing," Shizuo informed him and was that sarcasm he detected? Shizuo mixing with humour, when had his world been thrown to complete disarray?

"Leave me alone or fight me just not damn this," Izaya bit out feeling blood rush to his face as Shizuo pointed out his dire predicament.

Shizuo's hand twitched at his sides, probably craving a smoke, hopefully craving to wring Izaya's neck. 

"Will you just stop being so difficult for once in your life?" Shizuo frowned, agitation lacing his tone. Shizuo was too near, it reminded him of the incident that had happened in their room, of his red lips and his expressions, holding Izaya and fuck. 

"What do you want?" Izaya asked harshly so fed up and tired and just feeling all his senses slipping past him.

Shizuo didn't have the right, didn't have the right to try and worm a bigger space in Izaya's head than what he already occupied, didn't deserve to fill Izaya with warmth and feeling, make him brim with emotion and feel so close to the edge, too exposed, there was a reason he had decided to lock the monster up in jail and that plan had backfired so badly.

"No. What do you want Izaya-kun?" Shizuo gritted out, taking a step closer to Izaya, his teeth were barred, his eyebrows all furrowed in fury and this was the image of pumping life he so badly needed, he took too much comfort in the lines of Shizuo's body, all tension and all closing him off to the wall.

When all Izaya did was glare and raise an arm to push futile effort at Shizuo's chest, Shizuo's anger seemed to blaze a fire in his eyes that burned through him.

He raised his arm, curled his hand around Izaya's wrist, dug his thumb in the line of Izaya's wrist and pushed it down, holding it tightly.

"What do you want?" Shizuo repeated, meeting Izaya's glare with a fire in his eyes, "To crush your wrist hah? To fight you, to fucking break you or not give a damn?"

"Break it, monster," Izaya spat out, his spine shivering, his breathing ragged and his thoughts disjointed. Shizuo hurting him would make it so much easier, simpler for Izaya.

But then- they were pressed together, their bodies one solid line and Shizuo's hold on his wrist was grounding and his breath was hot as it fanned over Izaya's face and his lips were momentarily in his line of vision but he didn't know who pushed forward first or when their lips were connected, a soft press.

Izaya exhaled sharply through his nose and Shizuo's other hand was closing around the back of Izaya's head to have him there, just with Shizuo and his own hands stayed useless at his sides, wanting just wanting, so damn badly but not able to reach and take. 

Shizuo bit down hard on his bottom lip and Izaya hissed, feeling his heart beating a crescendo, his face felt flushed, his whole body felt aware to the sensation of Shizuo touching him. Shizuo licked against the seam of his mouth, pushed further into Izaya and Izaya breathed out a shakey noise, mouth opening easily to the press of Shizuo's tongue. 

All the anger they both held met at their lips, melting and dissolving to heat. Shizuo fisted Izaya's hair at the back of his head, crushing their lips more insistently together and Izaya huffed out a whine because this was how he had always imagined this to be like, soft and harsh, fast and with the bite of pain, overwhelming, something sparked within him, preventing him from pulling away from Shizuo, only pushing him to curl further into him. 

Shizuo's mouth was hot and tasted like cigarettes, mint and home, their tongues slid together, fitting and moving, Izaya's hesitant and Shizuo's coaxing, it made his mind start to spin, dizzy and exhilarated and thoughts floating sluggish and so warm as Shizuo sucked on his throbbing bottom lip and Izaya sighed against him, feeling like a fire was spreading all across his skin and rushing to a hot white flash between his legs and when Shizuo tilted just a little to the side and Izaya felt his cock pressing against his inner thigh, it almost ripped a whimper from his throat.

 But there was noise behind them and Izaya's whole body stiffened, realising their position and Shizuo pulled back a little to look at him, as if attuned to him wholly and it shouldn't make Izaya feel so warm and alive, he frowned, an endearing red hue to his cheeks and swollen red to his lips. He twisted halfway around to growl a breathless "Out," to whatever poor fucker that had decided to enter the bathroom at that point, it made Izaya feel sorry for the individual but only for a moment. 

Shizuo turned back around to him, their bodies still close, their noses brushing against each other awkwardly and Izaya felt too much blood colouring his face and he couldn't fight the blush, they were breathing  heavily and was he experiencing a head rush? And before Shizuo could move any closer, Izaya was clearing his throat, his whole body strained towards Shizuo and just completely wanting.

But warning flags were springing all across his slow mind, making him realise how stupid and vulnerable he was being, regret bleeding out of his heart and pumping all around his body. 

"I should-should shower," Izaya managed to work out, pulling his wrist away from Shizuo's bruising hold and Shizuo looked a little dazed but took a step back.

"Yeah, I'll be at the door," he said gruffly also clearing his throat and Izaya wasn't even looking at his eyes anymore, they were too deceptive, too blown black to eclipse the honey colour of his eyes as he looked at Izaya.

Shizuo shuffled away and sat at the entrance of the bathroom, with his back turned like an obedient dog and Izaya would be amused if he couldn't feel the moisture pooling in his eyes because he was so grateful, grateful for the chance to shower, for privacy, basic human needs and now he understood why humans cried so much, there were so many things to break tears over, even this fleeting gratitude he felt.

He wouldn't think of what had just transpired here with Shizuo because he may just shed tears over another thing then. 

He unzipped his jumpsuit and pulled it off him, peeling off his undergarments, dropping his knife on the soft of his clothing, watching the line of Shizuo's dutiful back.

He turned on the shower, the water an icy cold and that was a good thing because it muted down his overheated body, washed away the grime that marked his pale skin. It was a relief and a lot of his tensed muscles bunched from stress, loosened. 

Shizuo had been right, he had realised a few things back in solitude, somewhere within the limbo of nothing but he would wash that all away with the cold spray of water, taking Shizuo's warmth away with the dirt that contaminated him and ran down his skin and left via the drain. 

You're just tired he told himself, dragging his finger against the purple of his bruised wrist.

Being hurt by Shizuo had not made things easier, just carved further complexities into Izaya's brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys sociopaticnutellaeggplant drew a fanart piece for this fic and I'm so excited and flattered by it, no one has done this for me before so thank you, it's too sweet and fantastic, I'm infatuated with it, go give them some support :D
> 
> https://sociopathicnutellaeggplanted.tumblr.com/post/162893610013/vitriol-fanfiction-fanart-not-finished-but-felt
> 
>  
> 
> I want to take my time with the next chapter as these two felt a bit wishy washy and even with school finished and summer, I have work :( so wait for me <3


	8. Swing from a rope if you dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 4am, this is the longest chapter: a vomit of dialogue.

Izaya felt much better and lighter after his shower, not feeling as much weight on his shoulders to hunch him down and he dried himself with his jumpsuit and pulled his black shirt and shorts back on, tucking his knife down the side of his shorts.

He side stepped Shizuo at the entrance, muttering an almost silent "Thank you," which he knew he heard, the words hard to work out of a mouth that still tasted like Shizuo. 

Shizuo started heaving himself up, Shizuo started opening his mouth but Izaya renown for his speed was already down the corridor.

I'm not running away he denied to himself, feet gliding down the corridor as he did just that.

He really didn't know what he'd do if Shizuo were to pin Izaya with his golden eyes, another irrational action, probably.

Izaya made it to their room in record time, scrambling himself up to the ladder to the limited soft of his bed, he collapsed back against it, inelegantly and let out a sigh, enjoying his view of the ceiling that had shadows of cracks decorating it, much better than a cracked wall in solitary.

He shouldn't be thinking of the press of Shizuo's lips, he should be thinking of what was the deal with Black. He shouldn't be thinking of the breadth of Shizuo's shoulder as he pushed into Izaya and took him apart further into pieces and seemed to seal him together again with the searing kiss, he should've been planning on how to keep Tsurga contained not dreaming of the ghost touches.

"Fuck," Izaya groaned, softly, turning to his side and clamping his eyes closed against the images that played before him but he could still see every detail behind the darkness of his aching lids and that wasn't the only aching part of him, all of him ached, for something, just unattainable whims.

Shizuo always had to have this effect on him, had to carve a path into Izaya's mind just with his hot fury and perspective and oddly soft lips and brand him.

Fuck.

He pulled the sheet over his head and curled up into a ball under it, he was exhausted but his mind was reeling. 

Sleep, he tried to command his body, still feeling like he was thrumming with life and heat.

Shizuo came in some time later, closing the door and turning off their lights, he climbed into his own bed after getting no response from his whispered, "Izaya?"

Another empty and lonely night but with the monster's breathing and presence that just radiated warmth to Izaya, he could finally let his breath even out and mind shutter out to sleep and let black consume him rather than white.

///

Izaya woke up early as per usual, his internal clock working to always wake him before Shizuo and rush to brush his teeth in the bathrooms, this time he was particularly satisfied he woke up before the monster, he could slip away without his attention, taking the knife under his pillow with him.

He vigorously brushed his teeth wondering if that would erase the taste of Shizuo, wash away every trace of him, pushing those errant thoughts away, he tried to focus, Black was whistling something beside him, something cheerful and obviously done to ignite irritation to Izaya as he did up his fly and Izaya padded out of the bathroom not ready for that altercation.

First you take out the small fish. 

He walked, assessing his thoughts and pulling them apart to really understand.

He pushed open the door of Tsurga's room to find the man sprawled all over his bed, lost to the world with sleep and snores.

His room mate was nowhere in sight, making Izaya's job easier. Although he should still be on alert for their appearance. 

He walked the space of the room to Tsurga's bed, the snores getting louder, the heaped blanket and Tsurga in his view.

Izaya could feel the blood lust in him purring, he wasn't usually vindictive, no matter what people believed, he liked enjoying things from the sidelines and watching events unfold objectively, maybe he stepped in sometimes to tilt certain events in certain directions but that was the role of a God.

Now Izaya felt the anger inside him blooming, festering, remembering his incident with this man, making his skin crawl. His pride had shaken and crumbled to pieces after that, he wasn't some common prison whore. He would've left him alone, if Tsurga hadn't kept trying to eye fuck him for days. He could even be boasting this to prisoners and then fuckers would start lining up to jerk to the crude words that Izaya forced past his mouth because these beings were so depraved.

This could be a bad idea, the last dregs of rationality inside him warned but Izaya pushed that aside to slide onto Tsurga's bottom bed, crawling over to perch right on Tsurga's knees.

Breathing thinly, feeling the adrenaline course awareness through him, he aimed his knife right at Tsurga's crotch.

The man's breathing distorted, his eyelids fluttered and he stirred but didn't wake up.

Putting on his best drawl that went high on a cheer he didn't possess, Izaya woke the man up with the shrill of his voice. "Wakey, wakey, Tsurga-san," Izaya coed. 

Tsurga jerked awake, eyes widened in alarm as he struggled to sit up and realised the position he was in.

It was the most beautiful display, seeing the man's eyes light up with the notice of his predicament and then dull out with fear. 

"Hey Tsurga-san," Izaya purred, a flirtatious drawl to his voice and slid his knife flatly against the area it was on.

Tsurga tensed up completely, breath knocked away from him as his eyes darted around the room, the man could overpower Izaya but wouldn't dare move due to his position. It was always fun knocking the pride down from men that regarded themselves as big.  

"Do you-you need something," Tsurga rasped, trying to push away and Izaya pushed the sharp edge of the blade against his crotch as a warning not to move.

"Shizu-chan just wasn't into knife play in the bedroom so I brought it to you," Izaya smiled, a certain mania bubbling up inside him to burst into a grin across his features.

"I-I'm not into that either," Tsurga whispered, voice shaking, he could feel the grown man tremble beneath him, could see his widened eyes and fear glazing them in such clarity. Easy, to easy.

"Do you want to hear the details though, you were so into that last time," Izaya said, angling his head into Tsurga's space and he jolted slightly back. Disappointing, the man barely struggled. Not interesting. 

"I don't-"

"I'm in prison for castrating three men, you know," Izaya lied, voice so full of life that it sounded like the truth. "You first get them comfortable with you, immobilise them and slice! It's a clean cut, just like if you were to butcher some meat, although the amount of blood that spurts out of them is a bit revolting," Izaya continued, his voice animated, watching as Tsurga grew paler and paler. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mouth worked open and shut trying to say things but unable to, his body shook and this was glorious, really, just perfect.

"Why aren't you hard Tsurga-san?" Izaya questioned, voice making a mockery of concern, stroking his knife once again against Tsurga's clothed dick. 

"I'm sorry," Tsurga managed to choke out, voice edging on a sob. His eyes were looking at him as if Izaya was crazy and maybe that's how he looked right now.

These men really did only think of their dicks, Izaya mused.

"Then stop looking at me you fuck, look in my direction with that disgusting grin again and I'll mutilate your eyes along with your tiny dick," Izaya hissed, keeping a perfect smile in place as his eyes flashed something deadly and his hold on the hilt of his knife tightened, feeling his tendons protest the movement.

Tsurga nodded with a jerk, his face all crumpled up on fear and Izaya climbed off him knowing the man wouldn't attack after being shaken up, his legs would probably give out if he tried to stand. Izaya cast Tsurga's pitiful frame one more backward glance.

"Come back if you want more," he said, smile dragging wide, feeling lightheaded as if this rush had drained him of something.

He swung open the door, closing it behind him, walking forth-

And he smacked right into Mitsuo Black.  

Izaya jolted back a step, blinking and feeling dread fill him before pulling his expression back to normal.

Black looked down at him, maybe a little stunned by whatever violent expression Izaya wore before colliding into the Antichrist of prison himself or it could've been the knife still clutched tightly in Izaya's grasp and then he grinned, a face splitting grin.

"Brutalising my room mate Orihara?" Black questioned with a glint of his eyes, leaning into Izaya's space. His tone was too normal, a slight hint of laughter and condensation and this was danger. 

What the hell? Black was Tsurga's room mate? That should've been common knowledge, Izaya should've known this. He would never have took this course of action if he had been equipped with this information but Black never really stayed in a room, Izaya had seen the man enter and leave numerous rooms inhabited by many of his lovers and he had never marked an actual room Black was enlisted under in his head. Fucking irresponsible, stupid, a mistake on his part.

"May have brutalised his mind but he's still intact, I'm sure," Izaya replied after swallowing past his panic and returning Black's smirk with every bit of its razor edge, planting his feet firmly on the ground so as to not back away.

"Hmm," Black hummed and Izaya felt his nerves become frayed with the anticipation and nausea, he was leaning too close, smiling too much, the image of ease and now he understood why he commanded a whole prison, his body language enough bore a presence. "I've been meaning to talk to you Orihara."

Izaya balked internally, his lips tilted down and he adapted a dismissive tone. 

"You weren't interested last time Black-san."

"Please, Mitsuo is fine, I must apologise for my rudeness," Black chuckled, his void-like blue eyes conveying no sincerity at all.

"Mitsuo," Izaya intoned, letting the words curl to a threat in his mouth, "What can I do for you?" Izaya tucked the knife in his hand away and Black's almost iridescent blue eyes tracked the movement with hawk-like quality.

"You see, I'm very interested by the way you weld that knife and the way you perform," Black began and Izaya began to wonder where on earth this was going, Black was giving him an expectant look and Izaya was completely lost and on edge.

"I'm flattered," Izaya said with a huff of laughter that barely shuddered past his mouth.

Black appeared positively thrilled, still smiling, he leaned a hand on the wall beside him, slouching,"I'm a businessman Orihara, I see potential, join the prison fights and I can give you so much,"he said lowly.

The prison fights were a brutal form of entertainment that the inmates along with even the guards were invested in, it happened once a week, two candidates volunteered and held the weight of expectations on their shoulders and it was the only form of amusement for these people. Izaya had seen two and saw broken bones, split lips, eyes blackened and swollen shut, bodies battered and collective jeering of the audience. It was almost like some poor imitation of gladiators. It seemed to be the most orderly thing in this prison, it settled disputes, raised the stakes on bets, allowed the exchanging of contraband items, it was madness and violence.

"So you can cash in on betting on me Mitsuo?" Izaya asked, feeling something strangely like thrill build up in him.

"I like to win and I think it would be interesting, do think about it Orihara, benefits would include protection, luxury items, you wont have to whore yourself out to Heiwajima."

Izaya bodily flinched back, "In exchange to whoring myself out to you?" he almost hissed out.

Black burst through another laughter, it sounded almost childlike and amused, he raised his hands as if to touch Izaya's face and Izaya's eyes widened and body strained but Black was lowering his hand, pushing it out to him.

"It's strictly business, sweetheart," Black grinned, his hand waiting to be shook and Izaya exhaled fear and jerked his hand up.

"Fine, come back to me with details, _sweetheart_ ," Izaya said, clasping Black's larger hand in his and shaking it to seal something that felt like his doom but a lot like the thrill of adrenaline.

He knew, he just knew, that if he was to survive prison, attain respect from inmates, it was through this violence, he knew people backed off when he committed some form of violence and having Black as some sort of impromptu sponsor could be good for him. It was scary that he was noticed like this, by Black nonetheless, he knew he could be withholding information or have an agenda but this was an opportunity to establish a stronghold. Izaya was slender, small framed but he was skilled, weapons were allowed in these fights and he had his wit that nearly everyone here seemed to lack.  

Black tipped an imaginary hat as a parting mockery, lips still stretching an eerie smile and breezed past Izaya to his actual room, soundlessly, probably to a mentally scarred and angry Tsurga.

Breathing out a heavy breath, Izaya hightailed it out of the corridor that he knew would give him nightmares for the next week, he tugged at his hair and tried to think, well, this kind of resolved the Mitsuo Black situation, he tried to be optimistic but Izaya was a realist and knew the issue was far from over and maybe he had just dug himself further into the Black trap. He cut down the corridor to the box library within the prison, wanting to escape to a heaven of books before his brain combusted from too many thoughts attacking him from all direction and the distinct fear punching in his chest.

But even as he was walking into the tiny space, he could see the blond tufts of hair peeking out of the corner from a bookshelf and now Izaya realised why he didn't spend all his time in this space because usually Shizuo dominated it but Izaya was walking forward not backward, walking into the range of Shizuo's vision and seating himself on the floor to his left all in the span of seconds before he could even think through the motions and Shizuo was already blinking past confusion, curling his hand to hold his run down paperback tightly and casting his gaze and attention heavy on Izaya.

 

And Izaya looking back for a moment before turning sideways to examine the limited options of poor conditions books. The atmosphere was awkward, Izaya wasn't good at this. He had read through every single book aligning the shelves and he wondered what he could give a second read.

And even if he was being ignored, Shizuo had to open his big, fat mouth, causing Izaya's insides to go warm with tension. 

"Black found you didn't he?" Shizuo asked, let his question go rhetorical with certainty and hang heavy in the air before them. He was looking at Izaya's side profile, the book almost crushed to even further compressed flatness in his hold. It made Izaya shiver. Shizuo knew everything, so many pieces falling together, all the conversations between the two to flash to warnings in Izaya's mind. 

"What does it matter?" Izaya said nonchalantly, dragging out a battered copy of collections of Japanese poetry, poems interested him because they could be deciphered to mean so many things and Izaya loved unravelling every hidden meaning and evoking emotion.

"It matters," Shizuo growled, still staring fire at Izaya. "He's been trying to convince me for months to join and even I'm not stupid enough to consider it so why are you? Don't you get it, what if he's betting against you, pairing you with someone you'll lose against?"

The words were harsh and honest, characteristically Shizuo.

Izaya lifted his eyes to meet Shizuo's, letting the tension in his shoulders bleed to nothing. "Because, I'm all out of options Shizu-chan," Izaya said, quietly, 

The fire in Shizuo's eyes softened and Izaya abruptly looked down at the weathered book in his hand, he flicked to a familiar poem, they made a studyof it back in simpler times.

"There's plenty of other options, Izaya," Shizuo was saying but Izaya was ignoring the reasoning in his tone, leaning against the shelf and skimming over the familiar words.

"Remember studying this poem in highschool, Shizu-chan?" Izaya questioned, not turning to see whatever expression Shizuo wore, the poem was about changing seasons and changing personas, intermingling to form a nature bound landscape and stringing words to fit the yearning emotion.

Shizuo leaned to his right, looking down at the book held loosely in Izaya's lap and frowned, momentarily distracted.

"No, I was probably sleeping or chasing you," Shizuo grumbled, swinging his eyes back to Izaya's face and before he could go back to the previous subject, Izaya was already interjecting.

"That's why I don't get you and books and a library, you, you're always in here. I just wouldn't have expected it," and there was the teasing, it made Izaya feel better albeit it was lighthearted. And he didn't know why he had felt so awkward earlier, he could run conversations easily with Shizuo, they fit.

"I like reading," Shizuo protested, his voice quiet, loosening his hold on the book in his hand.

"Can your brain even comprehend?" Izaya continued and he was smiling now and Shizuo looked dazed and irritated.

"I like reading," he hissed, "my apartment's full of them and I enjoyed my books until a shitty flea had me locked up. I'm even writing something."

Izaya was going to make a dig about it not being his fault just Shizuo's obscene strength and moral justice to throw him into prison but he was stuck on the writing.

"You write?" Izaya asked, with a tilt of his head, he was looking at Shizuo now, curious and forgetting the worries that had him running into Shizuo's space. The world always managed to thin out to just them.

Shizuo's face flushed pink. Absolutely fascinating.

"Nothing, it's nothing, I can't write, don't have your insufferable brain, it's just a few ideas," Shizuo said and there was hesitance and a near stutter and he was baring something about himself that he was unsure about, to his enemy nonetheless, with his stubborn honesty and shining eyes and Izaya felt ashamed by this willpower Shizuo possessed.

"What is it about superheroes and crimes?" Izaya guessed, reveling in making Shizuo squirm.

"And the villains a flea like sociopath," Shizuo said to Izaya's further amusement. They were leaning closer now, something Izaya hadn't realised, he barely felt the discomfort of the floor or the outside scuffling of people filling in the corridors outside. The only thing that felt solid right now was Shizuo.

"I could-" Izaya was saying, caught on the easy going atmosphere and jokes, stopping short, not knowing why he was saying this, why he was volunteering this but Shizuo was gazing at him and his voice was working over the words, "I could have a look at it, see where you could take it," he breathed. "I mean you're too stupid and require my brain for sure," Izaya continued to ramble, feeling this odd self consciousness creep up on him. 

And then Shizuo _smiled_ , lips tilting up from uncertainty to happiness, pink and probably warm, his eyes crinkled and he had never seen Shizuo smile like that, radiant and shining rays with his golden eyes, his soft expression directed at Izaya.

"That would help," he said, gently, still smiling and Izaya had forgotten how the feel of the sun felt on his skin. Being locked in here, with no windows, Izaya wilted away, he could get a few minutes in the garden but that was the in the evening, this wasn't the same, this was daybreak, the first light that sparked to brilliance, it felt like he was revolving around the sun, having it flash a molten smile at him and he was going to combust this time for sure.

But all suns were knocked down from the sky, the day darkened into a black expanse and that's where Izaya belonged.

_When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done, help me leave behind some reasons to be missed Shizuo._

Izaya closed the book. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sentence at the end in italics is from a song called 'leave out all the rest' by the band, Linkin Park which I adore and their lead singer has just committed suicide and I feel so devastated so I wrote this as a distraction and God does anyone know the band?


	9. In the middle of a gunfight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK but I'm posting this unedited and i only finished it there and christ it turned out a lot different, I had to pull it apart, delete scenes, make new scenes and I just hope the finished product feels natural cos this gave me writers block, I gotta start planning my fics instead of writing them on a whim tbh cos I got seriously confused :')

Izaya, as a child had busy parents that catered for Izaya's every need except for the emotional affection that he had seen children in his school always receive, whether it be a pat on the head or a kiss goodbye as mothers dropped off their kids. Izaya knew he fell short somewhere in the loop of emotional capacity and it probably was something to do with that little gap in his childhood, it was annoying to see how predictably he had molded into the person he was today, such common tendencies and effects to shape his character, it made him feel inadequate because he was a self proclaimed God and if he had such human afflictions then he would clamp down on such ties.

At age eight he had chased out his sixth babysitter, the young woman appeared disturbed and distressed when she had begged his mother to give her last pay to her and she would be on her way, casting down anxious glances at a young Izaya.

His mother had stood in the center of the sitting room, clad still in her work suit, he remembered her telling the babysitter her pay will be in her account shortly in a calm and detached tone. He remembered the babysitter rushing out without a backward glance at the boy she had nursed for the month. 

Izaya's mother had turned to Izaya then, letting out a quiet sigh, a few strands of her hair were loose from her tight bun, raven locks as sleek as Izaya's and her lips were a straight line, both Oriharas supported completely expressionless faces and she told her impassive child that he would be staying over at his Grandmother's for a while, a five hour journey down from their city and Izaya did feel the rejection but could barely muster up any inflection, any emotion that tried to leak through was completely cut away and crushed before it circuited through his thought process.

His mother was early into her pregnancy at the time, still able to work and Izaya had felt slight excitement to see his sibling but he was sent away that day without even a pat on his head, without seeing the sight of his father but he doubted his father would even notice he had left their house, his presence never being heavy in his mind. He wouldn't get to see his new sibling be born. 

He arrived at the home of his grandmother, a distant memory of a gentle woman in his thoughts and she greeted him with a smile.

That year of staying with his grandmother always had a shroud of cloudiness surrounding it. He remembered warmth, a soft smile, pats on the head, a vast garden that he spent the first week exploring, groomed to beauty with his grandmother's delicate care of the plants. 

Izaya was shocked to see his grandmother so old, withering away, with rickety bones being so full of life, he thought a gust of wind would blow her over and claim her but she was strong. She sang in a sweet voice, cooked dinners with vivid flavours bursting on his tongue, much better than his home microwavable meals.

His mother called twice but Izaya knew it was his grandmother that had dialed the call the first time and the second time was to alert them that he had two new sisters in the world. 

Izaya's granny was a widower and had spoken of love like it was a beautiful thing, as pretty as the flower chain Izaya was making in his hand as he sat out in the sun and absorbed her stories like a sponge.

At the end of the year, she passed away from a stroke, Izaya discovered her collapsed form in her beloved garden and ran inside and frantically called an ambulance, his vision blurring on wet residue.

That year was bright in Izaya's thoughts but so many memories felt blocked and all he could see was light when he tried envisioning the experience. Glimpses and snippets of memories.

Perhaps it was because he had made acquaintance with death for the first time and it terrified and shook the very matters of his existence.

So when a guard gruffly called out his name in the common room, rattling that he had a call from the outside, the first thought Izaya had was irrational, maybe a little crazed. 

The ghost of my dead grandmother is calling me.

Because who else would call him? No one seemed to care, his life had always been the gold of Shizuo, the comfort white of Namie and the gray colour everyone else fell under that he enjoyed toying with, who else cared enough to call? Not his parents anyway.

With wobbling legs, he stood up from Korn's armchair, following the guard who clicked his tongue in impatience as Izaya slowly started walking. The telephone booths weren't too far from the common room, in a tiny boxlike room that was usually locked until call day once a month, he was surprised he was being allowed this. It felt too much like a privilege but Izaya honestly hadn't paid attention to the regulations of phone calls after being shut down by Namie.  

He stepped inside the room, feeling confused and curious, shaking off the tendrils of memory linked with his dead grandmother.

The guard ushered him to the telephone that had the receiver resting off it.

He wrapped his hand around the grimy receiver and raised it to his ear.

"Hello?" he said, politely.

A sharp inhale, then-"Izaya," an almost shrill voice squeaked.

Ah, one of the more interesting shades of gray to Izaya, one person so close to evolving into a different colour if he just allowed him in.

"Shinra," Izaya sighed as a means of greeting.

"Izaya-kun, how could you go to prison and not even alert me, I just find out today you're locked up and it's been a month? You didn't tell me anything, how could you and Shizuo's there, are you alive? Well if you're talking to me now, I guess you are-," and Shinra's voice was going octaves higher on panic and reprimand, rambling away and Izaya almost smiled, feeling something warm him a little.

"It must've skipped my notice Shinra," Izaya was grinning now and he could hear the amusement in his tone, could almost feel Shinra's resentment to it on the other end.

"I only found out from a passing comment from a patient, you pretty much stopped coming to Ikkebukuro after Shizuo was locked away and I didn't even know, I concluded that you were just working."

Izaya's heart missed a beat over the mention of Shizuo then stuttered a little hearing the hurt in Shinra's voice. What was this? Another ploy? Someone close to him screwing him over again? Shinra was a rare case for him, oddly maybe his distorted form of a friend, he couldn't take another blow.

"I didn't know your thoughts included me, thought it was just filled with Celty," Izaya tried teasing, feeling the presence of the guard feel heavy with attention, the receiver of the phone also seemed to weigh more in his hold.

"Of course it does," that was whispered, then, "What can I do?"

Izaya blanched away from the question, blinking several times and mind failing to comprehend.

"What do you mean Shinra?" Izaya shifted he weight of his body to his left leg, gripped the receiver tighter.

"Oh Izaya, will you let people do something for you just this once, let them help you, tell me what I can do to get you out, I know what prison is like."

 _Helping others is important,_ his grandmother had preached to him once _and receiving help makes the exchange equal._

Izaya felt the emotions he tried to bury tighten his throat but he worked past that, blinking his eyes again. 

It was too difficult for Izaya to ask for help but he wanted out, out of this dismal space where the walls trapped him inside, he swallowed past his pride and the tightness of his throat. "Get into my apartment, look at my files maybe another info broker can fix you up," Izaya hoped these vague instructions would serve to give Shinra a plan because he couldn't blurt his ideas to get a case for his appeal with the guard tapping his feet behind him. Shinra knew the underground, black market info brokers, the man was an airhead but he possessed a certain intelligence that had always separated him from others to Izaya. Someone could make the details on Izaya's computer look fake or as if he were framed, someone with his caliber of skill.

"Alright Izaya-kun that sounds solid, I'll call you back, do take care," the last bit was told in the typical Shinra cheer and Izaya relaxed, letting the familiarity bleed ease into him.

 

///

 

Izaya never waited around for anything, once he knew an event was happening in his life, his fingers would twitch and his brain would scramble to a frenzy because he had to control it, he had to sink his own fingers into it and influence and not let anything be a surprise for him. 

He was an information broker, one employed by the mafia and he knew who was the target Black intended him to fight even before Black had pulled him into a corner to give him any details with his piercing blue eyes hiding more meaning than the words that spilled past his lips.

Jacques Marc, an ex businessman just like Black, possibly a former or soon to be associate. French, being held in the cell because he was a danger to the public, awaiting transfer to Frontiere, a French prison cell much bigger than the one they were festering inside.  

His crime being the kidnap and selling of young Japanese females from forgotten slums to other French men.

Six foot, one of the tallest here in a jail cell that contained primarily Japanese men.

Curly brown hair with equally browner eyes. Physically in shape, managed to get by prison even though he was the newest addition to this cesspool of a place because he gave off an ominous vibe. 

Those were the details Izaya managed to scrounge up on Marc, his pen dotted a black blotch over his last 'i' in a notebook he had begrudgingly asked Shizuo for because it seemed like Shizuo was a hoarder of notebooks and cigarettes and certain contraband foods.

He had looked at Izaya with suspicion and mistrust before handing over one of the notebooks under his pillow.

His eyes lingered on Izaya's face as if assessing him and Izaya skipped off into the garden to write the details he had gathered over the past two days, breathing in fresh air to clear his head a little.

It had almost been comical how he had managed to extract these details, Marc's roommate was a man that lived on a literal high all the time and couldn't even recall his second name, he was just known as Gen. He had information on his roommate because Marc seemed to able to fuck a frail morphine addict that probably had no idea what was happening with no problem and spoke a lot in the bedroom but Gen had no discretion with all the chemicals that polluted his brain and Izaya managed to coerce the details out of the almost incoherent man, taking several hours to be able to process the man's lingo which was sometimes nonsensical. Really, this prison could be a drama series.

Something was happening though, behind the scenes, that was Izaya's gut feeling, Black was connected to Marc probably through business and they had different stakes raised surrounding this fight kept in the shadows. It made his skin itch trying to crack the code, it was like trying to hack into a system, processing information that wasn't presented to him in a clear form.

When he listened to his dear inmates around him he realised that every guard, every prisoner involved was betting for Marc. Placing favours, contraband items, drugs, even sex as stakes.

Only one person had their bet up for Izaya.

Mitsuo Black. 

////

He could hear the clanking of metal, the already broken ladder that led up to his bed protesting and creaking.  He could hear the ladder slide down an inch and foul cursing. 

Disturbed from his nonexisent sleep, Izaya switched to his left side just in time to see the crown of familiar blond locks come into view.

"Shizu-chan, the bed will break," Izaya protested, blinking at Shizuo's scowling face and mind failing to understand why Shizuo was climbing up here. It was late, he had heard Shizuo come inside, assumed that he would turn off the lights and get into his own bed.

"'M not that heavy," he grunted, "Scoot over."

Izaya could only frantically pull back as Shizuo slid into his bed. His heart beat loud in his ears, for a moment he thought his fragile bed would collapse down from the collective weight.

"Yeah well it'd probably take elephant sedatives to knock you out," Izaya complained, his back pressed to the cool metal of his bed frame, not being able to pull any further back.

"Are you calling me fat?"

The warmth of Shizuo's lean body close was definitely not fat.

"No a monster, idiot."

Shizuo's eyes creased and Izaya squirmed as Shizuo just got comfortable and pulled his covers over him much to Izaya's chagrin.

"Shizu-chan seriously, get out."

"You've been ignoring me." It wasn't a question, said with such certainty it halted Izaya's thinking.

"I have other things to entertain me."

"Is it cause we kissed?"

A pause, measured by how fast Izaya's heart was beating. 

"No. Now leave, Shizuo."

"I'll only leave if you promise not to fight that guy tomorrow."

"No. Get out."

And Shizuo simply curled around his frame and drifted off to sleep, breathe evening within minutes as if he hadn't climbed into the bed of his enemy, body aligned perfectly with Izaya's 

////

 

The day the fight was to take place, Izaya kept his knife carefully concealed under his sleeve.

The common room was vividly alive with life, prisoners buzzing with anticipation, guards watching from a distance and not breaking up the obvious illegal activity.

It was fascinating for Izaya though, prison, a means of punishment where regimen was meant to exist but only promoted fight pits, rape and drugs and Izaya felt like he was standing in the middle of his world, this tiny place, walls of human flesh surrounded him, his heart pumped adrenaline to thrum life all over his body. A lot of his fight movements were racing through his head, he could use the barrier of people for sharp angles, run into them and turn at the last moment, have Marc collide with the crowd to disorientate him, he could throw his knife and stab an eye if Marc favoured minimal movement but that would sacrifice his knife. So many sequences raced through his mind, coalescing together to fit the image of victory he strived for.

And Marc did not show up.

People waited for ten minutes before Black made a noise of impatience, inmates bundled into Marc's room, found him immobile on his bed with a broken leg, obviously a human feat by the haunted look on Mark's eyes, no not a human's doing but a monster's.

Izaya had not seen Shizuo all morning. Woke up afraid to a warm bed but sighed in relief when he found no Shizuo against him.

Black wasn't grinning so much anymore, He could feel the man glaring at Izaya, inmates shuffled around with lost expressions, some booed and the guards looked angry.

But Izaya was the one that was rotting with anger, feeling _fury_ burn his adrenaline to a fire in his body as he marched to his room.

This was a fight he had been building up with so much careful deliberation for three whole days, he knew something was off about it but only thought he would discover that while in the fight, would find out Black's intentions with the outcome of the battle. 

And there was Shizuo, knocking all sense and plan he had built up, crushing it literally with his fingers because his automatic function was always to fill a bigger space for himself within Izaya than he already occupied.

Izaya's steps were usually silent but this time he felt himself near stomping, breathing heavily and feeling so many of his plans, his goals slip through his fingers with Shizuo's blunder. Why did the beast have to do that? Whatever epiphany he had for Izaya in his solitary room should be kept to himself because screw that, Izaya wasn't dealing with it. He was far beyond that, he was high in the sky.

He would lodge the knife that was under his sleeve right inside Shizuo, maybe in is chest so it would always hurt when he thought of Izaya, hurt enough so that Izaya's name would never beat in his heart. 

He pushed open their door to find Shizuo on his bed, jotting in his notebook and Izaya would rip that book up just to spite Shizuo after he sank his blade into the monster.

Shizuo was the enemy, he had forgotten that somewhere in the limbo of things. Had mistaken his confused feelings, had been weak. 

"Hey Shizu-chan," Izaya heard himself say in a drawl, felt himself walk the distance to his bed. Insulted, he was humiliated, no one would consider him more than Shizuo's whore if he were constantly under his protection because by now people would be starting to figure out what exactly had happened to Marc.

"Izaya," Shizuo breathed and his face was scrunched up too in anger and Izaya just didn't get it, didn't understand why Shizuo's hands were shaking, why the atmosphere pressed down heavily upon them.

"I was promised a fight today, Shizuo, had all this anticipation built up inside me only to have you break the man's leg. Well let's help each other out, equal exchange and all," Izaya's voice was too tight, his hands mimicking Shizuo's shaking, he was meant to have engaged in a fight today and he would be damned if he didn't get it even if the opponent were Shizuo, even better it was him. As Shizuo's eyes tracked his face, as his anger distracted him, Izaya pushed the knife towards Shizuo, meaning to impale it into his monstrous skin, cut another scar to his body, only for Shizuo to raise his hand and grip his stupidly frail wrist and prevent him from doing so.

"Fuck you Izaya, I broke a man's leg because you're too damn stubborn for your own good, the only thing holding me back from crushing things is that that man was evil and probably deserved it," Shizuo growled, pulling Izaya onto the bed and Izaya wobbled and he went down. He took the knife from him, increasing the pressure on his wrist until Izaya hissing and let the knife fall from his loose grip, then Shizuo threw it with a clang to the opposite side of the room, not even sparing a glance at where it landed.

"I didn't ask you to do that," Izaya bit out feeling the heat rise on his cheeks as Shizuo just pulled him closer. They were on level now, facing each other.

"Yeah but Black wanted to hurt me, if I don't participate in his fights and by the way, he started them, always had a keen interest in putting me in them, but putting you in one was a big fuck you to my face."

"The world doesn't revolve around you Shizu-chan," Izaya grated, feeling the frustration in him overflow. Struggling and pulling, glaring and hating.

"It doesn't revolve around you either, Izaya," Shizuo frowned and every bit of anger inside Izaya drained out, dissolved with that punching statement, making Izaya feel dizzy and he physically deflated, letting his shoulders droop and stopping the futile resistance of tugging his wrist out of Shizuo's hold. It was true, something he was beginning to realise within the walls of prison.

"Fuck Izaya, just let people help you." It was said softly, that had been said twice to him in the span of a couple of days and Izaya couldn't glare at Shizuo anymore. 

It was slower this time, a single flame burning before it ignited with another, burning a new route for Izaya, destroying many plans in the process, many things he buried deep.

Shizuo's lashes fluttering over his gold eyes, the stroke of a thumb over his bruising wrist, a tilt of a head, background noise fading away to a strange quietness.

 _Oh_ , Izaya thought.

 _Equal exchange_.

Their noses bumped against one another, something inside Izaya gave way, Shizuo closed the distance between them, he could feel hair brushing against his forehead and then Shizuo connected their lips, pressing and pushing until Izaya was tumbling backward, harsh breaths panted into the air to swirl to heat over them as he fell on his back and Shizuo followed, a pressure of weight on his body, distributed to press heat evenly throughout him, Shizuo on him, dragging his hot tongue over the roof of his mouth, their teeth clashing and Izaya feeling too much saliva pooling in his mouth. A solid form to touch.

Shizuo was unzipping his jumpsuit and Izaya was clinging onto the material of Shizuo's unable to stay grounded, just completely pushed off a cliff edge and in a constant loop of falling. Izaya blinked, his vision strobed for a moment before it arranged in the form of Shizuo.

Shizuo's face was coloured red, his broad shoulders were heaving and the intensity of his look towards Izaya made something coil and curl tightly in Izaya's stomach.

He pushed off Izaya's shirt, leaving him exposed in just shorts and Izaya tugged at Shizuo's own jumpsuit trying to understand what exactly he was doing, feeling self conscious but all he could feel was warm fervor and natural extinct and want commanding his fingers to pull Shizuo's jumpsuit off his shoulders.

"I always got awkward boners when I was angry on the outside, then I realised I was always furious around you and you had conditioned me to feel aroused while in anger," Shizuo huffed, wriggling out of his jumpsuit and Izaya had the inexplicable urge to laugh, feeling his self consciousness grow distant, He wanted to giggle and smile with Shizuo and let his warmth consume him because the notion of what he was saying was just completely ridiculous. He didn't know what expression he was making and he was scared that Shizuo could just see him.

"I had you well trained," Izaya managed to quip, feeling a well of panic and embarrassment try to take control and throw him off kilter for a moment, he could still stop this, he could but then Shizuo practically growled at his comment, attacking his lips in a bruising kiss and Izaya melted, feeling his lips become swollen and raw, warm hands traced Izaya's collarbone, stomach and spine and Izaya shivered, felt like he was being branded and exhaled words that sounded a lot like the shape of Shizuo's name and Shizuo trailed his lips across his jaw, licked his ear and told him to "turn over," with such command in his voice that Izaya automatically complied before he could even grasp a hold of himself. He didn't know he could become such a mess from a man's touch from Shizuo's touch.

Izaya tensed completely realising his position and he didn't know how he could just mindlessly turn around on Shizuo's whim but Shizuo brushed his large hand along the knobs of his spine.

"Relax," he breathed and then when Izaya's body had still not completely calmed, he felt Shizuo's body envelop him, warm and all encompassing.

"I'm not gonna just stick it in you," Shizuo said, his voice sounded rough and he was fumbling with clothing behind him, he threw a pillow in front of Izaya from behind him and finally Izaya exhaled past the tension, he was already leaking into his shorts when Shizuo pushed them off him. 

Shizuo pressed firm hands on his hips, pulled his ass up and arched his back down with a large palm pressing pressure and Izaya flushed harder before he felt Shizuo's knees digging into his back thighs and then something large and slick pushed between his legs and dragged friction against his balls and bumping his cock.

And Izaya finally let the whimper that was bubbling at the back of his throat out. 

"Izaya," Shizuo grated out before pulling out and thrusting in between him again, causing the muscles on his legs to flex, Shizuo was panting behind him, he was pushing in behind him, he was a warm weight on him, all his surroundings burning with just Shizuo and the grinding of his cock against his sensitive nerve endings that was causing Izaya to alight. Izaya hadn't known this was possible, could feel his face burn and his heart stutter, his mind was an incoherent jumble, words clashing against each other.

His thighs were trembling and he jolted when Shizuo's large hands adjusting him back into position because he was sliding and lost and shivering with want and pleasure throbbing almost painfully to his untouched cock.

Shizuo snapped his hips again and this was harder causing Izaya's elbows to buckle and he fell to his forearms and within the second his face was being rocked into the pillow in front of him, with his ass raised in the air and friction pulling him apart and rearranging him and filling him with want and fuck, his feet were squirming to find traction on the sheets, his voice was breaking over heat, he could feel sweat coat all over his body and he fisted the sheet under him tightly.

"Touch yourself," Shizuo was groaning, his voice so low, working himself in and out faster and Izaya could moan into the pillow now because it would be muffled and he trailed his hand down, barely fitting it into the the tiny space between where his cock was rubbing the bed and he took himself in his hand, jacked himself once, twice-Shizuo grinding against him and he shuddered and let out a shaky whine, he could feel Shizuo turn his head, could feel the edge of teeth on his shoulder blade and a sharp pain fueled by pleasure and his vision was becoming white around the edges and he came all across his fingers.

He felt the alien leaking of Shizuo's spilling across the back of his thigh with a gasp and Izaya let himself slump, completely collapse on the bed and try to get air to fill his shuttering lungs. His heart was racing too fast trying to beat itself out of his chest and Izaya felt completely wrecked.

Shizuo slouched on him too, he could feel soft lips just brushing the bite on his back, Shizuo's own breathing filling up the space and Izaya opened his eyes, didn't even know he had screwed it shut in the process of things.

"You'll face me someday won't you Izaya?" Shizuo said against his back, lips rubbing ticklish sensation over his skin.

Izaya did not turn, let his back to Shizuo be the answer to his question.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly harder to write than Izaya's dick (runs away)  
> Seriously I was gonna have the fight in this yes but then I realised I can't write fights lol then the porn just wow embarrassing.  
> Like I had all these plans to even have French talking in this with more to Marc's character but it just wasn't working so I apologise to people who were anticipating a big fight and oh yes I shall crawl back into the hole I came out of er enjoy???


	10. Well, I don't remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's not talk about how late I am with this :)))))) but so so sorry, I have work and prom v soon and I had to shop and I've just been so so busy but here it is and yeah maybe I am a little guilty because I got addicted to reading webtoons so if anyone wants to scream at me about them feel free.  
> The first scene isn't a flashback per se but a thing I wanted to write acc and then the second scene picks up from the previous chapter :D enjoy.

Izaya could feel his feet skid as he came to an abrupt halt, stopping his momentum with a practiced speed, he took a sharp turn to his left, ducking into a narrow alley and feeling the wind ruffle his hair to a disarray.

Laughter bubbled at the back of his throat at the high he was experiencing, heart pace matching the rush of his feet, intensity flaring within him and he let out his laughter, letting it go high and interestingly echo in taunting ricochets across the narrow alley as he heard a growl behind him, heavy steps pursuing him with determination, he could almost feel razor eyes glaring holes to the line of his back.

"Iiiizaa-yaaaa!" Shizuo shouted, whether in vain hope of calling him back or due to his fixation in the chase, Izaya did not know nor care, all he cared about was the adrenaline making him feel life course through him so vividly or how blue the sky looked in the blur of motion that his speed took him.

He grinned at himself as he heard a crash and a string of profanities, he could literally see light at the end of the tunnel and he increased his pace, pushing into the light and into the lively bustle of Ikkebukuro with the vast array of citizens already jumping to make a beeline away from the infamous duo that wrecked havoc to the streets.

Izaya carefully weaved past any gaps made, smirking at the horrified faces that fueled his amusement.

"I was only dropping by Shizu-chan!" Izaya enthused, mimicking the perfect tone of condescending just to rile the beast up that notch further.

He had already scoured half of Ikkebukuro with the beast hot on his trails, this unbreakable force that persisted in wiping him out and his lungs were protesting, every breath a sharp sting, his legs ached and his destination was the subway. Today he would run onto the train and watch Shizuo's face morph with fury when the doors shut on his face, contorting his already furrowed eyebrows and frown to rage and it would be beautiful. That thought renewed his speed until he was again calling an abrupt brake to his feet, stopping one centimetre short from colliding into a massive hulk of body looming over him.

Simon, the eccentric black Russian looked down on him, his signature smile replaced by a frown, he looked over Izaya's shoulders at the chaos Shizuo was causing in pursuit of Izaya and he was just about to side step Simon when his hand landed heavily on his shoulder, stopping his movement.

His body could almost feel Shizuo coming to a stop behind him, he had become attuned to the monster's motions to make their fights equal parts amusing and fair, he even could single out the sound of Shizuo's footstep against other individuals.

A pause followed and Izaya felt like he would be scolded, interest and panic at Shizuo's proximity was swallowing him a whole and his body was just flinching away from Shizuo's body feeling too near when Simon's other hand grasped Shizuo and pulled the duo together into the same space. This close, Izaya could feel the other's heat.

"What the fuck?" Shizuo asked, agitation lacing his tone but his body meekly followed Simon's pushing and they must have both been blinking up at Simon now in bewilderment. Why was the man restraining him? Izaya should've been at the subway station by now, back on his way back home.

"Make love not war," Simon said, his eyes flitting between the two supporting a strict expression before it brightened, "Sushi good, sushi make people love," and with that conclusion, Izaya was being pulled forward with a disgruntled Shizuo.

He turned his eyes sideways to catch Shizuo looking back and for once the two weren't staring at each other in hate but confusion before stumbling up the steps to the sushi bar with the vice-like grip controlling their movements.

"Simon, I really must be going, could you let go?" Izaya said in perfect Russian feeling Shizuo's irritation at not understanding the conversation like a physical being.

"After sushi, you boys are just lonely and hungry," Simon replied, Russian accent heavy as he decided to reply in Japanese , probably for Shizuo's benefit and led the two to stools. The sushi bar wasn't very busy, a few stray stragglers that were casting Shizuo and Izaya anxious glances. "Don't move or I bring you back again," Simon threatened and disappeared behind to the kitchen and Izaya, with a sense of dissociation perched onto a stool, feeling a little lightheaded and chalking the situation to be completely ridiculous.

He heard Shizuo do the same and then silence. Awkward, charged silence carrying too much weight and Shizuo was the first to break it with his brash attitude that could never restrain him.

"You think I'll eat sushi with you after you sent that gang that carried too many knives at me?" Anger, barely contained, unadulterated anger. Izaya loved that about him.

"I didn't invite you," Izaya said in a bored voice swinging his vision upwards to Shizuo, becoming stunned for a moment because he had always known Shizuo's eyes were golden but being this close up to him for the first time, he could see a thousand suns burning gold to his irises,  his hair tousled with the chase and the angry red staining Shizuo's skin. They had always been separated by a fair bit of distance and for the moments that they had come too close, Izaya was too focused on getting away to stare at the colours dancing in Shizuo's eyes.

Izaya jerked a little back not realising the stools had been placed so close together and Shizuo grimaced, his eyes following the movement of Shizuo's lips twisting before looking back up to see Shizuo's face had become redder. 

"I am going to smack your head with a plate," Shizuo gritted out, turning to his front and away from Izaya's line of vision.

Izaya felt strange, mellowed out but in a head space where he was focusing too much attention on things but it feeling too blurry to grasp. "That's not very becoming of you on our first date Shizu-chan," Izaya taunted, just to hear Shizuo sputter angrily and see his ears become red. What would this monster do at an actual date? Izaya made a mental note to record Shizuo if he ever managed to peg himself a girl and he was smirking at the thought when Simon placed plates of sushi in front of them with an encouraging grin. 

And Izaya learned that day that being forced into closeness with Shizuo and seeing soft expressions cross his face, flickering life and feelings was a dangerous combination for him. 

 

////

 

He could feel material rubbing against his thigh, rough, coarse fabric but gentle motions, and Izaya's sluggish mind and sated body struggled to catch up with the world behind him, his brain felt mushed up with fluff and slowly he started twisting his body to the side and squinted, spotting Shizuo running his black shirt over Izaya's leg, wiping off the evidence of himself on Izaya and Izaya's whole face was overheating on embarrassment and his heart was beating an assault against his rib cage. 

"Uh-" his voice was too hoarse, he swallowed saliva down his dry throat and discreetly tried clearing his throat as Shizuo looked up at him, his eyes still the lively gold, never managing to diminish, only losing some brightness when he had hurt someone or screwed up somehow, his skin all flushed with self consciousness, hair mussed from their activities and suddenly they were boys again, sitting awkwardly side by side and struggling to find a common ground at a tiny sushi bar in their favourite city, trying to work past their emotions to communicate.

"You don't have to do that," Izaya's voice was barely above a whisper, he struggled to a sitting position, pulling his legs up tight to him to cover himself and god he was feeling embarrassed and flustered, his legs even felt too weak to run away from the situation and what had he done, he had just given himself up to something that shouldn't even touch him and it had made him feel like he was soaring too high in the sky and panic was brimming inside his too strung up body.

And Shizuo's palm pressed against his chest and Izaya was pulled away from his thoughts to look back wearily at Shizuo suddenly feeling too tired and aching.

"Let's just sleep okay? I don't want you running around outside with Black just cause you need to avoid me again," Shizuo said in a strangely quiet voice, his eyes too soft, his lips too red and God Izaya will go blind but he let Shizuo push him back to his bed, watched as Shizuo threw their clothes carelessly off the bed before pulling up the sheet and falling beside Izaya, warm and very real.

Izaya wanted to close his eyes, let sleep take him to a land where things weren't so complicated and intense, in a space where he didn't continuously lose the control he had spent years mastering but Shizuo was lying beside him, close, his own eyes open, his face tilted towards him and Izaya was left to look back at the golden eyes that would always haunt him.

"I realised you were oddly pretty that time Simon made us sit together and eat," Shizuo said abruptly and his lips weren't twisting, they were curling into a shy smile and Izaya's heart had not managed to even return to a normal tempo. They were breathing the same air and his brain short circuited on the word "pretty" before his nerves were looping messages back to his brain to form the image of that one time on the outside that Shizuo had gotten too close.

"What a crazy man, trying to get us to eat together," Izaya tried to keep his voice level but this was too bizarre of a situation, his emotional floodgate was open and he couldn't seem to click the reverse switch. His fingers twitched to just pull the sheet completely above his head but that would also drape over Shizuo and they'd be limited again into a closer space. 

"Wasn't so bad," Shizuo mumbled, voice deep on exhaustion, eyes still fixed on Izaya and he wondered what he looked like to Shizuo, what expressions painted his face because he could analyse every expression that flickered across Shizuo's features and he knew Shizuo could always tell what Izaya felt even with minimal expression to be read.

"You broke two plates trying to hurt me and I stabbed you with a chopstick," Izaya said dryly, struggling not to just melt against Shizuo and Shizuo _laughed_ , a bright sounding thing with his eyes crinkling again and his heart was doing that thing where it felt like shrapnel was embedding itself into it and Izaya inhaled a breath.

"Turn off the lights Shizu-chan, I wanna sleep." And not look at you.

He didn't look to study Shizuo's expression, let his aching lids seal shut and fell asleep almost immediately when Shizuo climbed back to their bed after flicking the light off.

He let his warmth lull him to a land where his troubles didn't exist.

Temporarily. 

 

////

 

When citizens observed Orihara Izaya and Heiwajima Shizuo on the streets, they could see a common prey and predator relationship in their turbulent chases that blazed fire to the streets of Ikkebukuro but that was an illusion. A prey is someone who is running away from the predator, desperate and lacking control and at the disadvantage in the situation not someone who guided a predator, not someone who knew the hunting grounds as greatly as a predator would, not someone that was almost impossible to catch. In their situation, it would be more accurate to believe that both were predators but of different breed and talents.

Izaya did not fall into traps, he did not wait for the predator to come to him, he was the one that initiated the chase and took control of situations so therefore, he sat himself down opposite Black for breakfast the following morning, offering a false, polite smile and chewing the tough bread for breakfast. The food was as repulsive as ever.

Black was a different caliber of predator. Charming, a performer, selfish, callous, lacking care, a complete and utter psychopath probably already clinically diagnosed with the condition. Izaya could usually understand his humans on a base level but with Black everything was unpredictable, not an innocent curious unpredictable but a festering your nerves with fear kind. 

Black paused, his eyes lifting from the newspaper he had been skimming and fixed Izaya with his set of unerring blue eyes. His grip on the newspaper tightened. 

"Ah Orihara-san yesterday was a shame, how are you feeling?" Black smiled, too perfectly, expression schooled into a mockery of sincerity and Izaya knew the art of manipulating one's expression and did not let himself fall into false security. Instead he tried to fixate most of his attention on Black, letting some dim part inside him keep tabs on the other prisoners in the common room eating their food, talking and probably a few glances were being thrown at Black and Izaya.

Izaya slouched against the chair, matched Black's smirk with ease, "I do hope you're not too disappointed _Mitsuo_ after you had bet for me and all," he drawled, at the back of his mind he was wondering if Shizuo would walk in and see him conversing with Black and wondered what he would think but he was tamping down on those thoughts, he had to focus on this interaction, it weighed too heavy against everything else. It didn't matter that he had to use all restraint within him to climb out of the warm bed with Shizuo's scent and touch, that stuff shouldn't matter to him.

Black's lips twitched and his eyes shifted slightly and Izaya was on edge, "Heiwajima got a bit cagey-" a fake laugh that nearly caused a shiver to run down Izaya's spine, "I anticipate you'll participate in next week's fight, I have high hopes for you."

And people called Izaya cryptic. 

"I think my fighting days are behind me if I'm honest," Izaya said, his voice light and unassuming but it still managed to trigger a tightness to Black's eyes. 

He couldn't help but try and decide what Black's connection was with Marc or what yesterday's cancellation of the fight had bore down on Black but he had realised he was being naive and a little cocky, Shizuo had been right, he shouldn't have agreed to something that held such little predictability and hurt for him.

"Did you ever find out why I'm in prison informant-san?" Black asked darkly, his smile splitting his face and Izaya's stomach dropped at being addressed with his profession, something that was common knowledge on the outside but otherwise not disclosed to anyone here besides Shizuo.

"No you told people all these different stories, I could not decide which one was the truth," Izaya shrugged, leaning a little in and straightened from his slouch, his blood was roaring in his ears and curiousity and unease was prickling on his skin. Black was the puzzle piece that did not fit, just remained broken. Black was the first man he had profiled here and apart from knowing his prison arrangements and what he had done in his time here, Izaya had no idea of his history, the bastard was smart.

"Would you like to know?" This was an intimidation scheme, a ruse to watch Izaya squirm but Izaya would not break, they were both the predators here and shared the same confined hunting ground. 

"Sure, tell me another one of those stories." He must remain calm and hold his ground.

"A belt you know is a practical tool, serves many functions, you can tighten it and loosen it, adjust it to your control. It looks like a pretty collar on girl's neck, slim young girls, around sixteen like your sisters? You wait until they're nearly dying, choking on their saliva then you loosen the pressure of the belt, let 'em breathe and start all over again. It's exhilarating."

Izaya's blood ran cold and a shudder finally ran down the length of his spine as he tried to mask the horror he was basking in with the mention of his sisters. It's an intimidation scheme, he can't do anything, he tried to repeat in his head but how did Black know so much of his details, is this how it felt to be on the receiving end of an informant? If so, Izaya now understood why so many people disliked him.

"Can't say I know the feeling but good chat, I must go," Izaya was proud that his voice didn't shake or lack coherency as he stood up from the chair to make his retreat before he finally lost it.

"Oh and Orihara, belt bruises on the neck heal slower than the human bruises that were on your neck," Black called after him, his voice taunting, all-knowing and lacking the inflection of a normal human, definite psychopath.

Izaya had become the prey.

 

////

 

He found Gen in his usual spot in the corridor, the man was sitting opposite his own bedroom door and on a day that his brain hadn't been scrambled on drugs he had told Izaya he sat there because he usually got lost if he were to wander around and he didn't enjoy being in his own cell. Izaya was strangely relieved that Marc was immobile in his bed and would be shipped off to France soon, Gen could finally feel a little safer in his own bedroom just like Izaya did in his and everyone deserved that, a tiny safe harbour.

Izaya leaned against the white wall as he sat beside Gen, it was nicer to have quiet company, someone who didn't pester him but still served as a body to sit next to him, someone he knew that didn't carry any vindictive actions or thoughts.

Gen looked at him with recognition in his eyes and Izaya deducted that he was in one of his more aware moments. He was a boy in an adult's body, probably a year or two older than Izaya and he could understand more so on some level why people threw away their lives on addiction but this was a true tragedy.

Izaya inhaled a breathe, sat listening to the rush of silence until he could pick out the hush of Gen's breathing and the sound of footsteps echoing on adjoining corridors but he could barely bask in peaceful quietness, Black's threats were prominent and Shizuo was a bright spot in his head and God Izaya just wanted to lose his complete control already because he had fallen this hard already, his wings were clipped. 

He stared at Gen and the man stared back with lifeless eyes and Izaya wondered how it would feel like to just not think, to leave behind all responsibilities, to not have his sisters flash behind his lids and make him feel raw fear after such a long time.

"Can I have what you're having?" He couldn't believe he was asking for this, couldn't believe Gen even understood what he was saying but there he was standing up, walking across the corridor and disappearing into his room and Izaya's head fell back against the wall and he stared at the white ceiling.

Gen returned from his room, not carrying any dirty needles or white powder or bags of liquid but a bottle of Russian whiskey and Izaya had no idea how he managed to have that but if the man could obtain drugs, he could have alcohol and suddenly Izaya was grateful that Gen wasn't holding drugs to him because surely he would've succumbed to it.

Gen sat back in his position beside Izaya, bony fingers opening the bottle and Izaya watched the frail fingers struggle as he struggled with himself internally.

"You're better with this," Gen explained, his voice slurred but not unintelligible, passing the bottle to Izaya and Izaya gripped the cool of the bottle, smiled at the man that was a lost boy beside him, felt it feel sincere on his lips and tipped the burning alcohol down his throat and immediately feeling a little relaxed.

Two sips later, Gen was curling against Izaya.

Another sip and more static quietness and Gen's head fell on Izaya's shoulder.

Another three sips later and Izaya's head was swimming and Gen was snoring gently against him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pose an important question for readers for me. Where do you think this fic feels like it's at? Just beginning (pls no), middle or are we reaching the end. I have pacing issues so I just wanna know what you guys think.  
> Oh and next chapter I promise fluff, very little to no angst OK.


	11. I won't go down by myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an apology for being absent for almost two weeks :( August is just pure hectic, getting state exam results back and life just decides to be a chore and I'm sorry but it'll be a slow update schedule in August, I have prom and birthdays and work. 
> 
> That said I wrote the scene everyone wanted as a gift lol and it screams cliché and this hurts and God this chapter feels stilted and just wouldn't write itself and I hope I haven't taken away from the atmosphere of this by doing this and yh I'll stop rambling.

Two days flowed slowly, a progression that was almost physically painful, wrapping Izaya into a tense bundle of nerves, he was short with people, more viable to flick his knife out in the air and slice skin, all the while he could feel eyes on him, tracking his movements. 

This is how people become insane, Izaya thought. His once brilliant mind, a source he was dependent on had grown sluggish, awareness on how to keep himself surviving rather than the grand schemes it was once capable of plotting on the forefront. Now his brain was a festering mass of worry, paranoia, he anxiously waited the two days out, willing his mind to not just shatter and shut down on him while he waited for phone day.

Contrary to popular belief, Orihara Izaya cared about his two siblings. They were cute and clingy in their infancy and grew up to be eccentric strong girls and although Izaya had a blase attitude towards his family, there was an ingrained love for his sisters within him that was rearing its ugly head inside him to stir unease and tension.

So as his internal clock inside him blared on call day, Izaya rubbed his raw eyes that lacked sleep because too many ideas haunted him at night and he slipped down his ladder with practiced ease and made a beeline for roll call not caring to even wash off the vestiges of sleep from his face or relieve himself. 

Breakfast was a stilted affair, Izaya felt too keyed up, too much energy coursing through his veins and no outlet to release it on.

As soon as he heard the keys for the phone room jingling, he was jumping to his feet, pushing past the sudden influx of inmates that wanted to have their call, their chance to communicate to the outside world.

_I'm becoming like them._

_Insane and craving a fix._

He picked up the receiver, stabbing in digits he remembered, a man he had hired as a bodyguard before, an ex yakuza, a brutal man but disciplined.

He breathed out the tension inside himself, deflating like a balloon as soon as he heard the gravelly voice of the man.

He quietly relayed instructions to shadow his sisters and gave the details of one of his numerous bank accounts under different aliases to wire the money as payment to the bodyguard, all the while he had to square his shoulders and take the shoving and random groping from behind.

But it was okay now because whatever threat Black served for his sisters would be eliminated with close to no hassle. Even if he felt helplessly restless and inadequate rotting away in these confined walls without helping his sisters.

He placed the receiver down, feeling his gut twist as his connection to the outside world was extinguished. 

"Hands!" he heard Shizuo bark behind him and he twisted around to find his frame closer to him, not looking at him, only glaring fury at the older man grabbing at his hip. 

The shaky hand was removed from his hip and inmates actually shuffled aside to let Shizuo close the distance between them and finally the monster was looking at him, a different heat in his eyes but Izaya tried to remain composed, gripped the receiver again and simply placed it in Shizuo's hand before trying to brush past him but a hand on his elbow prevented that.

"Wait for me," Shizuo simply said, pushed Izaya to stand cut off, in front of him, too close, the gestures and the sentence too intimate for Izaya's spinning mind to comprehend.

Shizuo started to dial numbers and Izaya stood, watching the large line before him, the cracked ceiling, Shizuo's orange collar, anything but the golden eyes watching him.

"Kasuka, hey, how are things going?"

Things were too complicated, Izaya could hardly find a voice to give name to the blurring label that fell between them.

A pause.

Shizuo probably loved him sibling far more than Izaya's stilted love for his own sisters could extend to.

"I'm proud, that should be filmed in Canada right?" Happiness and pride saturated Shizuo's tone, his smile infectious as he looked down at Izaya as if he were trying to share the happiness but Izaya had never shared happiness, or given it to someone, he's forcibly taken happiness from people with his underhanded tactics but honestly here, in the confines of this institute Izaya had forgotten the bubbly feeling of true happiness. 

Izaya had taken to avoiding Shizuo again and Shizuo had strangely respected the distance but to suddenly pull him close and ask him to stay and wait had Izaya feeling panicked, an emotion he was getting familiar with in this dismal place.

"How's mom?" Shizuo's voice cracked slightly and Izaya's heart twisted, confused between feeling regret or glee at hearing his enemy's sorrow.

But why did he feel strangely calm again when Shizuo began smiling softly again?

"Yeah, that's great to hear," Shizuo's hand trailed down from his elbow, landing on his hip to hold him from pushing by and Izaya squirmed, glared narrowed eyes at Shizuo as he had the audacity to smirk back.

"Okay, next time I call tell me about the program, bye, tell mom I love her."

Shizuo placed down the receiver behind Izaya, having to lean in even closer to him till he could feel his hair rise but then he was pulling away, dragging Izaya along with him.

"Where are we going Shizu-chan?" Izaya asked, trying to not collide with the pulsing crowd of people as he was literally led like a rag doll.

"Wanna shower and talk, don't you?" Shizuo responded, slowed down his steps until Izaya was walking alongside with him in the direction of their room. People must really be used to seeing them together if they weren't even sparing them a glance now.

"Maybe just the shower part,"Izaya muttered, followed Shizuo into their room to get the spare set of his clothing, feeling a little better that he would be allowed a proper shower even if he was mooching off Shizuo but that really was the point of his existence. 

Shizuo was a presence that took up a lot of space both inside Izaya and inside the prison walls. Izaya had barely seen an outward display of violence from Shizuo since his arrival here that compelled brutal inmates to disperse in Shizuo's presence but he could imagine what a turbulent force Shizuo must have been when he first entered prison. How much fear he must have incited with his rampages and raw anger. He would've been so furious with Izaya at the time too, would probably had smashed anything that had come near him. Izaya wanted to ask him of his experiences but could barely bring himself to speak to Shizuo so familiarly.

Right now all it took was a scowl from Shizuo for people to clear the bathroom, one man tripping over himself to vacate the premises with his pants halfway down to his thighs and Izaya suppressed a smile.

He suppressed a lot when Shizuo began removing his clothes, the line of his muscled back on display but Izaya jerked to a turn, swallowed down past the sudden dryness in his throat shuffled closer to a shower head before beginning to strip himself down to his boxers.

Soap, that's all he had to cleanse himself. No shampoo or conditioner to shine his hair to sleekness or expensive cologne to drive Shizuo's nostrils insane.

He twisted the tap and felt the icy cold water wash away the grime of the past few days, the water was freezing but it didn't manage to breach the numbness that was inside him.

"Izaya?" Shizuo's voice was too close, sounding strangely echoed with the water cascading down around him. He sounded younger and more unsure. 

He turned around, blinked away the water to find Shizuo standing in front of him, gaze intent and Izaya felt his dull senses beginning to alight.

"Can I join you?" He asked, his eyes never leaving Izaya's, it was for permission, more than that, it weighed much heavier than that by the vulnerability in his voice.

And Izaya thought about laughing at Shizuo's weakness, rejecting him, spiting him, just ruining everything of him within his grasp.

But Shizuo had always been able to melt the numbness inside him, to reach it with ease when it floated lost inside him.

He pushed back to make room for Shizuo who took a tentative step forward.

Immediately they were in a bubble of flowing water and charged tension and the water didn't feel so cold anymore with how warm Izaya was flushing but he continued his motions, ran a hand over his wet hair as Shizuo merely stood under the spray of water. 

"I was a little rough with you the other day," Shizuo said quietly, his hands automatically going towards the bruises on his hips.

Izaya will surely burst with all the emotions swirling inside him.

"Since when the hell did you care about hurting me and I'm not going to break idiot," Izaya mumbled, almost feeling the tiles on his back.

He felt closed off from the prison surrounding him, a space for just the two of them, without the consequences and rationals of the world outside to guide his judgement. This was another confined space but he found he didn't mind that. Not when Shizuo was warm and solid against him because Izaya had began hallucinating and losing his mind the past few days and an illogical being like Shizuo made more sense to him right now before him, pressed to him to reassure that he was very _real_ and that the thoughts that flitted across mind weren't a figment of his imagination and that he wasn't fading to cease to exist as the days in prison dragged claws through Izaya.

Shizuo had always been a constant in his life.

Shizuo huffed a laughter, slid his hands to encircle behind Izaya and tugged him away from the cold of the tiles and forward to the warmth of Shizuo.

"There's a prison counselor here for troubled inmates, she told me I should start writing and I had no clue what to write, what to begin with," Shizuo ducked down to the floor where he had placed a tube of shampoo that was probably a contraband item he had managed to get a hold of. God Shizuo was such a hoarder, Izaya would have to start beginning to steal the items that littered under Shizuo's bed.

Shizuo rubbed the liquid against his scalp, his hair had began to grow too long now, past his ears with brown showing more than blond in some places.

"So the counselor told me to begin by writing a few sentences about the people in my life," Shizuo continued and Izaya wondered if Shizuo could see him raise his eyebrow.

"Does this have a point?" Izaya questioned, a little dazed but holding onto every little information Shizuo dished out.

"I wrote you were glass under your name."

"What's that meant to mean Shizu-chan?" Izaya asked a little breathless, praying Shizuo couldn't feel him half hard against him but he could feel the hardness of Shizuo's arousal pressed against him and it was doing strange things to his breathing and thought process.

"You're pretty, you sparkle and you cut people, easily hurt them if they hold you too close but you're also delicate and easy to break," Shizuo answered and Izaya could feel protest work up his throat but he was reduced speechless by Shizuo's hands massaging the shampoo into his locks, gently, barely tugging at the strands and it was too symbolic, a testament to what he had just said.

Izaya felt angry and fed up and aroused and slightly useless as to what to do but Shizuo leaned down, carefully pressed his lips against the seam of his mouth in a chaste kiss and leaned back a fraction as if to survey Izaya's reaction but Izaya was burning from the inside, starved for more contact to feel real and close to Shizuo and Shizuo could seem to read that because he was surging forward, cupping Izaya's face as if he really were fragile glass as he licked his lips and coaxed into his mouth but Izaya had to show that he wasn't some crappy porcelain, that he wouldn't shatter so easily, that he would hurt him. He bit down on Shizuo's bottom lip, feeling more than hearing the hiss of breathing that came from Shizuo at the action and then he was controlling the kiss, running his tongue against the hotness of Shizuo's mouth and drawing gasps from him.

And then there was a only the sound of the spray of water and both of their harsh breathing to bounce against the walls.

Shizuo's hands brushed down Izaya's torso, leaving behind a trail of heat and Izaya's brows knit and body coiled slightly by the stab of arousal punching at his gut.

Shizuo's palm pressed against the front of his boxers and Izaya's hips automatically stuttered into his hand as he felt his cheeks and body grow warmer but every sensation felt heightened under the fall of water and his mind was in a far away place. 

Shizuo's hands dipped into his boxers to draw him out, pulling sensation to arch Izaya and have him whimpering and overwhelmed by touch, then Shizuo was pulling himself out, grasping himself and Izaya together into his fist and they were touching skin on skin and the image was so obscene, Izaya had to hide his face into the crook of Shizuo's neck.

Shizuo stroked and Izaya lost all coherent thought and they both groaned and it felt so good.

"Will you look at me?" Shizuo huffed and Izaya could feel Shizuo's cock slide against his as Shizuo fucked upwards and Izaya was going to come embarrassing fast. He couldn't help his own hips from jerking up, couldn't stop the tiny noise that left his mouth.

"Don't want to kill my boner by seeing your ugly face," Izaya managed to grit out, letting out a shaky exhale and wondering if his ribs will be crushed by the beating of his heart or will his legs be able to support him in the next minute.

"God why are you such a pest?" Shizuo asked, his voice wrecked, his hand tightened around their cocks and Izaya's mouth fell open against the warmth of Shizuo's skin.

Another hand was at the back of his head, pulling at his hair to display his flushed face and bleary eyes for Shizuo and Izaya felt exposed but his self consciousness was dissolving with every drag of Shizuo's hand, up and down their joined shafts, rubbing electricity to Izaya and the world felt like it was flashing in circles in Izaya's eyes.

But Shizuo was in focus, staring heat at Izaya, holding his gaze and watching him as if he were memorising this moment to memory and then he was pressing the pad of his thumb to the head of Izaya's cock and Izaya's eyes were widening before he was pushing forward and closing his eyes and kissing Shizuo with fervor, it was messy, with too much spit but Izaya's whole body was thrumming with tension, coming with spasms all over Shizuo, breath stuttering in his lungs as Shizuo continued to stroke, faster.

"Fuck," Shizuo whispered on his lips, his hold on Izaya's hair tightening to pain as he fucked into his hand once more against Izaya's cock and started spilling in his hand.

He eased his grip on Izaya's hair, planted his palm flatly on the tile behind Izaya as if to anchor him in place and this time let his head drop onto Izaya's left shoulder.

For a few moments, they both just stood against each other gasping to catch their breaths until Shizuo had let the water wash the mess off his hands and twisted the tap off because the water was becoming too much for their sensitive skin.

And the prison world aligned itself back to Izaya's vision but he found himself too satisfied and warm against Shizuo to run away.

Shizuo stepped back, grabbed the towels placed a little behind them and threw one at Izaya as he himself started to towel off the rivulets of water clinging onto his skin.

Izaya wondered how long they had been here, if the other inmates had walked in or heard anything and if Shizuo saw his cheeks flame he didn't comment.

The experience was surreal but it caused Izaya to feel real again, solid and breathing and capable of feeling things with a startling intensity.

His breathing had just returned to normal when Shizuo was walking back into his space and Izaya fought to keep eye contact with Shizuo, avoiding the urge to duck down and hide his face to shadow.

Shizuo slowly raised his hands as if afraid Izaya would flee like some scared animal but maybe he wasn't wrong, how many times had Izaya ran away from the situation?

Orihara Izaya was a coward, he stood frozen as Shizuo's thumb swiped at his lower lip, preventing the teeth that were biting at his lips from tearing skin. The gesture was too intimate, spoke more volumes than what they had just done.

Shizuo gave him a small, almost nervous smile and something slithered in Izaya's chest, it moved in response to Shizuo's actions.

Izaya watched amazed as Shizuo's smile twitched to mischievous.

"Izaya do you not shave to try to look manlier here?" He smirked, tied his damp towel to his waist just like Izaya had already done with his.

"You try avoiding being jumped," Izaya said almost petulantly and it was almost scary how Izaya could fall into the habit of talking with Shizuo, didn't have to run away after pulling a stunt like this. 

Shizuo laughed again and really the monster had been doing that too much lately.

"You really cant grow facial hair flea, you literally have just a few splotches, it looks ridiculous, come on I brought a razor." 

"Where do you even get these items?" Izaya questioned, watched as Shizuo drew out a razor from the items on the floor, wondering if he could steal that and use the blade as a spare weapon.

"Helping people here has it's benefits," Shizuo simply shrugged, wiped foam on Izaya's chin and cheeks and Izaya frowned.

"I'll-I can do that," Izaya protested, leaning back from Shizuo's ministrations and feeling all twisted up on the inside again.

"I want to."

Shizuo placed his hand back on Izaya's cheek, rubbing the foam again and Izaya continued glaring at him.

_This feels too natural._

"Fine. I get to cut your hair," Izaya bit out, blushing at the domesticity of the situation.

"You think I'll let you near me with scissors?" 

Shizuo tilted his chin upwards with his thumb and index finger, ran the razor over his skin with care but he could hear the amusement in his tone.

And Izaya finally smiled, his worries feeling small and inadequate, wondering what he could do to really scare Shizuo as he hung a pair of scissors over his head.

"Truuuust me Shizu-chan," Izaya taunted in a teasing voice, Shizuo grimaced, then mumbled an agreement and Izaya found himself actually grinning, wondering if the bubbly feeling inside him was happiness.

And Izaya had not broken into tiny shards of glass, he was a whole.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I joke.   
> But yh poor smut aside but they were totally flirting and getting along. I feel like my other chapters they build and break their relationship over and over again with little things but this one was more progressive for them idk.


	12. Come with your arms raised high!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating within the week tired and hungover r u proud

There came a day when Izaya trotted into the common room to an atmosphere of tension so tangible, it raised the hairs at the back of his neck.

It wasn't his paranoia clouding his judgement or distracting him, inmates were definitely on edge, it was in the way they held themselves. Suspicious eyes flitting across the room, jittery nerves and tense energy coalescing together to create an altogether disturbing mood in the room.

It felt wrong, flared his instincts to feel alert.

And Izaya thought the attention he had garnered for himself had been fading but now people were openly staring at him again, watched as he did his usual routine as if there was something alien about it, as if he hadn't been doing these same things for the past forty two days.

He let his muscle memory take over in his actions, Izaya carefully took his breakfast of semi uncooked eggs and brown bread roll, pausing for a moment to pass the cook a smile before sitting down on Korn's armchair, nerves feeling frayed and hyper alert.

He jerked his head in the direction of Shin, an ex-military member turned criminal, discharged for disorderly conduct. Shin was a stocky, short man that still managed to maintain all his health and muscles from the force, along with probably some form of misplaced honour. He seemed to approve of Izaya, when Izaya defended himself against people or spoke to him the select few times.

It wasn't easy, they weren't exactly buddies but they exchanged a few words from time to time even though Shin was an extremely cautious man. Sometimes the man beat Izaya on the amount of paranoia he shouldered on himself.

"Is there a reason for people to behave like a rats nest has infested the place?" Izaya asked, tearing off a piece of his bread roll while fixing his gaze on Shin, watching the minuscule shift of his eyebrows and mouth twisting.

"That's exactly what's happened," Shin replied, under his breath, the man himself was playing with the eggs on his plate, he shuffled closer to sit by Izaya but didn't offer much else.

"A mole?" Izaya inquired, uncertainly because that painted a whole new picture to his living situation, morphed it to be more interesting and dangerous.

Shin's face conveyed his revulsion as he gripped his plastic fork tight until it was bending under the force.

Izaya tilted his head, rested his plate down not feeling the bite of hunger because now he was distracted.

"All eyes will be on the newest addition in prison, that Frenchie, Marc," Shin said quietly in answer, eyes looking grim. Inmates didn't like moles, didn't like anyone that threatened the foundations of their flimsy, temporary home. They became agitated to not be able to speak as freely as before because even though most people here were vile degenerates, they didn't rat out one another, it was the unspoken rule among them, the one promise to bring a unity to the cast of strange inmates.

"But Marc got shipped off yesterday noon," Izaya whispered, remembered Gen's eyes actually shining a little with happiness yesterday evening as he tried to stutter out that his cell mate had been sent away and that intel had been corrected. Izaya had smiled with Gen once he had confirmed the information with a guard.

Horror filled every cell, every atom of his body as both him and Shin came to the same conclusion at the exact same time like twin switches being flipped to light two light bulbs.

Izaya was the newest addition here, disregarding Marc.

With widened eyes, Shin scrambled up from the floor at Izaya's feet but Izaya was scared and his blood was rushing to his head to pound his heartbeat to his ears as doubt and fear spread through his body at an alarming rate.

He did not need a bigger bounty on his head.

"Wait," Izaya called after Shin desperately, made to grab his hand as if he could stop him, stop him and make him stay. "Who says there's a mole in here anyway?"

Shin's eyes darted, landed for a second on Mitsuo Black who was fixing a half cut belt to collar around the neck of one of his fuck buddies at the far corner of the room, before Shin was retreating because the once daring man from the military that thrived on adrenaline rush and thrills had such bad ptsd that he couldn't seem to take a risk anymore, merely lived to be a shadow of himself.

And that's all the answer Izaya needed, realised Black was pinning a big 'shoot me' symbol over his head for no other reason but misguided interest and to feed his psychopathic proclivities. 

He watched Shin's back retreat with a cold sort of detachment, lost to the dark of the corridor he walked brusquely towards, watched as he left him just like everyone else seemed to. 

 

////

 

Izaya had always been a restless sleeper, even in the safety of his home, where he was alone and content with the buzz of the city down below to lull him to sleep. He even suffered from periodic bouts of insomnia, therefore, to say he didn't have a good relationship with sleep was an understatement. 

In prison, his sleep has deteriorated so drastically, he found himself dead on his feet, mind heavy and eyes being supported by purple bags. He could catch a few hours some nights, some nights he lay on the soft of his bed, eyes wide, mind tearing and rearranging information together and apart, as he listened to the rush of silence and Shizuo's quiet snores. It got bad on nights like these, he didn't have his job that he was previously married with to fixate over. In the darkness and stifling environment, his mind could wander to darker territories as sleep evaded him.

His life was always at risk, even outside the prison walls but for once he felt actually threatened, watching his back all day only to collapse into his bed and find no purchase of sleep.

He remembered a poem by an American writer who had her own issues and control difficulties. He would have to try and see if he could dig up any of her works in the minuscule library that mainly contains Japanese texts.

' _I lay my ear to furious Latin.'_

That's how comprehending his mind felt, with all the thoughts colliding and vying for attention.

Izaya rubbed roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand, exhaled an exasperated breath and turned over just as he heard Shizuo's quiet breathing below start breaking into tiny sounds and harsher breaths.  

Izaya's heart raced, he scooted over to the edge of his bed, peering down below to see Shizuo laid on a mass of sheets, eyes screwed tight, lips dragged down, his eyebrows creased as he tossed to his left.

He heard some more distressed mumbling before Shizuo's entire face scrunched up and he said, "No," with such desperation edging on his tone.

"Shizu-chan?" Izaya tried voicing out loud.

Shizuo's eyes sprang open with a start, widening before he breathing slowed and his eyes latched to Izaya's face.

He stared, then pulled back and fell back to his bed wondering what thoughts plagued Shizuo's mind at night. What nightmares caused that haunted look to display on his face?

" _Izaya_ ," Shizuo near wheezed and Izaya hummed a "What?" into their share living space, he really wouldn't be getting an inch of sleep tonight.

"You know when someone's in a bad state, you're meant to offer concern," Shizuo said, his voice returning to it's original cadence that his nightmare had torn from him.

"Shizu-chan, I am just merely incapable of human actions and emotions, remember I'm a pest right?" Izaya responded, letting sarcasm creep into his voice.

"Come down."

Izaya tensed, gripped the sheet in his hand and shuttered his eyes closed.

"What for?"

"Just get down here," Shizuo ordered, irritation seeping into his tone.

With a sigh, Izaya threw his sheets off him and slid down his ladder, feet feeling even colder on the metal of his ladder.

He could go down to Shizuo and stand next to him without fear because even though Shizuo's intentions were unclear, at least he knew he wouldn't be hurt, knew the monster's fighting patterns if he actually lashed out but that was unlikely.

He stood over Shizuo, raising his eyebrows at the messy haired, agitated man who could barely stand losing his sleep.

Izaya had kept the lights on tonight when he had entered to an already snoring Shizuo and Shizuo was blinking irritated eyes at him.

"Get in, will you," Shizuo mumbled and really Izaya didn't know how to feel, how to classify all these moments with Shizuo because if his understanding of movies were correct, they were definitely having a moment, with the quietness of the night and the vulnerability of Shizuo, face still coated with a sheen of sweat from whatever fear that had gripped him too tight.

"Why?" 

And Shizuo gave him the exasperated, don't be an idiot look and the sun must orbit the earth because really that was the look Izaya reserved for Shizuo when he was being an idiotic beast.

But then nothing could ever be straight with Shizuo, himself included quite literally.

"Are you going to smile all cryptic and be lost in your head or climb in?" Shizuo clipped, pushing a hand through the mismatched strands of his hair, his fresh haircut suiting him a little too much to make Izaya ache.

"I just told myself an excellent joke but it's not to the taste of a brainless idiot like you," Izaya said dramatically, sat gingerly at the edge of Shizuo's bed because every time he had gotten into this lion's den, he became irrational.

"You always gotta be a cocky flea don't you?" Shizuo huffed, pulled the sheets to offer space for Izaya that Izaya filled after a pause of hesitation.

Immediately, he was enveloped in warmth, the heat of Shizuo's unnatural body temperature seeping into his skin.

 _I'm doing this to pacify the monster, he's needed for his life in prison_ , Izaya repeated in his head, fought the urge to lean his body and press against Shizuo, to bask in the warmth and assurance that was washing over him.

Because there had been a pressure on his chest to cast worry to him all day and right now that had eased, he felt safe. 

Safe in the arms of his enemy.

"Is this the part where I offer you the do you want to talk about it sweetie?" Izaya taunted, snapping out of his own thoughts, always enjoying it when he could race over the territory between mockery or insult with Shizuo.

The bed creaked slightly as Shizuo shifted side ways to look at Izaya and Izaya's eyes stayed resolutely on the view of his bed above them, this is what Shizuo got to look at each night, the frame of a bed blocking his view from Izaya laying over it.

He could imagine what thoughts fucked up Shizuo's brain at night, the countless horrors of prison, his family, Kasuka, his friends. They were so different, while Izaya mused over the workings of Sylvia Plath and the concept of suicide and death, Shizuo was below him probably concerned about other people. They were so apart, in too many ways and although Shizuo wasn't entirely human in Izaya's eyes, he contained too many human qualities, too much worry and concern and damn empathy.

Izaya had always been jealous that even though he'd been the one to be given a human body, he lacked Shizuo's capabilities, lacked his humanity.

"You know in highschool everyone thought you were a sociopath," Shizuo said with a frown, hands twisted in their sheets and another sharp cut ripped at Izaya's heart because what was the point in loving humanity wholeheartedly if he couldn't reach, couldn't connect, it hadn't bothered him before, not when people whispered it or shouted it in the past, not when his mother's equally emotionless face raked over him in quiet disappointment but hearing it from Shizuo's mouth, as his warm breath fanned across his cheek, gave a lot more realism to the words. 

"But I think you just don't know how to express emotions," Shizuo finished, a hand pressing on Izaya's waist, feeling like iron branding him to tingle sensation and drawing him closer while Izaya snorted a somewhat self deprecating laugh and tried not to fall down the rabbit hole of panic.

"You're one to talk about expressing emotions, or is it just anger," Izaya said sharply, capitulating to Shizuo's pull by automatically curling against him. His chest was so solid, reassuring and he wished he could ask Shizuo to not let go but he wouldn't.

"We balance each other out, don't you think?"

And the words felt like vitriol, salty truth that pressed agony to sightless wounds.

But it was softened by the hand rubbing down his back, to sooth the ache and calm him down a little.

"What did you dream of?" He chose to ask instead of answer, his voice muffled by Shizuo's shirt.

"You were dying," and Shizuo's voice sounded flat, dead itself, stripping it of it's usual life, of the tone that would colour his voice and Izaya was stunned for a moment, body becoming stiff because he hadn't put himself in the list of people that Shizuo was concerned with, thought it only comprised of his parents, Kasuka, Tom, Shinra, Kadota, Celty and Vorona. 

He realised again with a jolt that he had been wrong to assume that him and Shizuo were plagued by different thoughts because both had been turning over the notion of Izaya's death and maybe just maybe they really weren't that different from each other.

It felt like a premonition for the worst, a distorted epiphany.

He relaxed his body again and pressed his face to the warmth of Shizuo's chest.

"I'm here," He offered, feeling Shizuo's heart literally beat where he had voiced the words and Shizuo held him tighter.

Somewhere between that, he managed to drift off to sleep, a warm, deep and dreamless sleep.

 

////

 

Chess calmed him down, many different strategies that he had memorised over the years, hell he was even sure he had made up one or two but he needed to show his face in the common room, had to prove he wasn't some mole and that caused an insufferable amount of stress to pollute his system.

He reached a little further to grip a black chess piece at the far side of the board, to claim his white bishop because he was playing the game against himself, a game which could manage to go on for hours.

A hand landed on the piece before him, pushed the piece to take his white bishop and Izaya's eyes looked up from the hand that had a light amount of black hairs on his knuckles before moving up to lock eyes with the unnatural blue that caused him unease.

Black's grin split his face in two. "Didn't you used to have a buddy to play this with Orihara?" His voice literally curled around his name and Izaya shifted against his seat, felt a sense of malice and shock consume his body.

Korn.

It still caused him unbearable pain, he missed the guy far more than he thought but a day here in this prison felt like a lifetime, therefore he had spent several lifetimes with Korn and god damn it hurt but Black didn't deserve to see that, Izaya would not succumb to his petty games.

"I find myself to be of better company," Izaya said pointedly but Black's eyes were already surveying the board, analysing where each piece lay and where to pick up on the game.

"Did you hear of the news of a mole being in here?" Black asked conversationally, tipped his head to look back up at Izaya and Izaya could feel his blood go cold and his heart stutter but he blinked past the emotions that wanted to paint onto his eyes, pushed his pawn sideways, gripping the chess piece too tight.

"You mean the clever rumour you're spreading Mitsuo?" Izaya was going to cut to the chase, no sidestepping and tiptoeing because this was crucial, this was a web being spun to trap him and threaten his livelihood. He usually loved operating on conversations that carried a subtext over the general conversation, loved deciphering the meaning in the little smiles or frowns or wordplay but Izaya was fed up, tired.

Black smirked, moved another chess piece but Izaya wasn't paying attention anymore, he felt dizzy and confused and he just wanted to leave this all behind.

"You're pretty when you squirm," Black replied, voice low and Izaya was done, done with the twisted grimace on his face and the knowing eyes that seemed obsessed with making Izaya feel uncomfortable, he wasn't getting anywhere here.

If anything, this interaction was only settling panic to his body and making nausea swirl in the pit of his stomach, clawing to get out and rid his body from sickness.

Using the flat of his hand, he knocked over Black's king and stood with shaky legs.

"I'm gonna cut this short," he heard himself say, felt his lips stretch to a grin and bile at the back of his throat.

Without glancing at Black, he took mechanic steps towards the corridor, feeling his paranoia grow as his vision lapsed into darkness.

Each second stretched, each noise caused Izaya to flinch as mere memory guided his steps. He tried to even out his breathing, tried not to spur on his panic to manifest into something worse but there, there were the steps behind him, following him and he wasn't just imagining that, it was very real and it was Black coming behind him, ready to just cut all the tension and chasing and end Izaya. For good.

Izaya swiveled around, blinked, couldn't parse anything but his own harsh breathing and someone else's that was walking towards him and it had to be Black but his frame was far away and Izaya's hand dove into his jumpsuit, drew out the reassuring weight of his knife and then within a second, his feet had caught up with the figure following him, stepping to meet him like he was his guest, raising the blunt bottom of his knife to drive a hit on Black's forehead in that one single moment.

Things slowed, he heard the wail of Gen's voice, agonised as he crumpled to the floor and Izaya's eyes widened in fear and regret, not seeing anything but the small bundle of Gen's body on the floor.

And Izaya shouted himself hoarse, loud and upset and distantly he could hear footsteps over the roar of his heartbeat in his ears, the lights flickered on and Izaya flinched, closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened his eyes back to his nightmare, guards were there, lifting Gen's lifeless body into their hold and probably taking him to the infirmary or whatever health aid they could find and Izaya was too numb to feel the guilt and horror, too numb to feel the guards grip him, harsher than Gen, drag his feet to skid on the corridor, past the brightness of the common room where people continued the cryptic staring, pushed him into his personal limbo that was solitary and locked the doors with an audible click.

Izaya could see the endless white walls, the indent that reminded him of Shizuo.

And Izaya's fragile sanity shook, became undercut with the pressure, cracked, and when the force of his thoughts weighed on him.

He _broke_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah here I am back at it again with the angst. Why do I prefer writing angst more than fluff n smut oops


	13. To your room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter but a faster update :D
> 
> Trigger: brief mention of self harm.  
> I have acc raised the rating as I realised my fic can get dark at certain points so better to be safe.

Sometimes time passed without a frame or flow, slowly and too fast simultaneously until Izaya could not decipher the move of it. The whitened walls completely blanked his mind, the indent being the only anchoring point Izaya could focus on, the crack was black, it spiraled into spidery twists, a distortion in an otherwise blank canvas.

It helped him remember the injustice his hand had committed, let Gen's crumpled body permanently taunt his vision every time he blinked. 

Izaya had regrets in life, he did, numerous but this one was laced with guilt and self loathing. He didn't take satisfaction in knocking over someone he would consider now to be a friend, someone he cared for, someone who couldn't take anymore hits from the world.

Izaya realised again just how badly his mind had been fried in prison, how he couldn't use his regular motions to tamp down his emotions because he was weak, because he had lost his control, his composure, had let the paranoia fester inside him until he was rotten, until he wasn't worth it.

Izaya had always had to be his own biggest fan. In isolation, it was crucial to have self acceptance.

That was how he had lived so many years, no one took pride in Orihara Izaya, no one since his grandmother had fallen to the ground.

He had to build himself up, had to believe in himself to function and not let the world swallow him a whole. He operated alone, he found out his information, studied, learned languages, gained contacts, built himself up to scratch until he could be proud of himself, could see that it's possible to go through the motions of life alone and yet carve out a name for himself.

He had yearned to mean something all his life, if it wasn't to mean something for people through love then fear and wit it would be, he could be divine.

Laying down a brick wall to solidify his standing.

So that behind the brick wall he could soar high, as high in the sky as he could reach, all by himself.

But when Izaya stopped being proud of himself, let self loathing brim to overflow inside him and hated himself. He could not be his own saint then, he crashed against his brick wall, an object of his manifestation and he fell.

He fell and crashed onto the ground until everything was aching and his vision was blurring and his breathing was labored.

Orihara Izaya was not loved, not even by his own self.

Izaya mind alternated between internal horror and numbness in the passing body of time, he could not decide which state he preferred.

Hurt awareness or no awareness at all.

He slumped against the wall, feeling cold in every sense, eyes wide because every time he blinked he could see Gen's fallen figure because metaphorically that symbolised Izaya.

He pulled out his knife from his pant leg, stared at the end point that he had hammered into Gen's skull and felt nothing and everything.

He ran the knife over his wrist twice and he could see the droplets of red reach the surface but could not feel any sensation at all.

His hand opened and the blade fell with a clang on the ground.

He closed his aching lids, let the image of Gen haunt him because that hurt so much more than any physical injury. 

 

The guards opened the door sometime after Izaya's mind had drifted half asleep and he jerked awake to hostile glares and unhappy frowns.

With wobbling legs he stood up, feeling dead on his feet, before any guard could manhandle him up, he tuned out their lectures, talks of counselling and violence and sped up his pace until they were behind him and everything was blurring past him, he knew he had repercussions to pay but he couldn't find it within him to care at that moment.

He was once again in the hub of the common room. It was early morning, therefore not many were lingering in the common room.

The cook wasn't even there to serve breakfast, therefore, Izaya figured he had half an hour or more before roll call.

A few inmates stalled their movements to blink wary eyes at Izaya but Izaya pushed past them, walked down the corridor that nearly made his legs give out as he forced himself out of the nervous threshold of his mind and focused to walk the steps to the front of Gen's room.

He paused outside the door, he felt fear grip his actions.

What would he do if Gen wasn't behind that one door? The metal of the door felt like it carried more meaning than a door.

Behind it lay meaning, the ability to make or break Izaya.

The air began to feel a little thin as he inhaled a breath and pushed open the door.

He stepped inside, his eyes falling straight away on the bundle of covers that Gen was sitting over, staring unseeingly at the opposite wall.

It wasn't that concerning as Gen did a lot of blank staring on a regular basis, what was alarming was the purplish, large bruise off the centre of his forehead, swelled to a bump and looking like it hurt very much and Izaya struggled to swallow down whatever fluids were inside him. Guilt threatened to eat him up as he shuffled a little closer to Gen.

Gen's eyes slowly drifted to meet Izaya, a second passed for awareness to light his features and Izaya sincerely hoped that Gen wasn't shit faced on drugs while supporting a nasty concussion but then-Gen bodily flinched back and Izaya's legs finally gave out to have him collapsing to the floor, on his knees right at the side of Gen's bed.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, staring at Gen's eyes that were so wide in his hollow face, body tensed as he tried to comprehend Izaya and his mannerisms.

"I thought you were somebody else, you didn't deserve that, I'm so sorry," Izaya continued, finding it harder and harder to work words out of his closed up throat.

Gen looked torn, his eyes flitted to the door and Izaya's guilt choked him up.

"I wont ever hurt you, I promise," Izaya babbled, hand gripping the bed frame in front of him tightly, legs spread awkwardly beneath him.

He understood why his humans broke down so often, why they felt the way they felt now.

His eyes were raking over Gen trying to overwrite the image of Gen fallen on the ground, to him alive and sitting in front of him, within an arms reach before the regret was causing him to stare at his fisted knuckle instead.

It was his turn to jolt when he felt hesitant fingers touch his fist, Gen clumsily patted his hand with his bony fingers and Izaya looked up to find the man flashing him a small smile.

It made the difference of an entire world, it lit up his eyes, it stretched his lips, it made Gen look happy, not as broken and unaware as he always seemed to be. Human, normal, forgiving.

And Izaya-

Izaya hugged a person for the first time since his sisters were seven.

 

///

 

Sometime later, Izaya shuffled out of Gen's room, realising that roll call would soon be called and Izaya didn't want to throw himself into more trouble with his already damaged record. At this rate, he knew he had to improve his behavior here, he didn't want to serve his entire sentence and if he could just get out even a month earlier out of prison, it would help his sanity marginally.

Getting out earlier on good behavior and doing even just probation sounded like gold to Izaya.

His stomach rolled in waves, nausea clawing as he entered the common room, with Gen trailing him. Although his stomach was achingly empty, Izaya didn't have it in himself to eat, much less look at the things that passed for food here.

He swiftly finished with roll call, ignoring the pushing and leering that was coming from him at every side.

Everything was literally closing in.

He needed to get his temper under control, he wondered where Shizuo stored all the red hot rage, he now knew why Shizuo always needed an outlet, how he could fall apart like dams have burst at the slightest taunts because Izaya felt unhinged, like he was on a constant loop of falling and if he encountered Black now he may just burst.

Although Shizuo's blond hair was fading, his tall stature, broad shoulders, irritated expression weren't hard to spot and Izaya literally did a one eighty turn as soon as Shizuo's features brightened on recognition and he broke out of his line in roll call, walking towards Izaya.

But Izaya was done with roll call and didn't owe Shizuo an explanation, he didn't want to face this, he wanted to bury himself in a book in the garden but he had read every single book in the minuscule library twice over.

_Did a sane person question their sanity so much?_

_Did an insane person believe they were sane?_

Izaya's strides lengthened as he heard Shizuo shout his name behind him but Izaya was really out of the practice of running away from Shizuo, had forgotten the chase and prison hardly suited their usual tendencies to run rampage. He didn't even know if his being was into the whole avoiding Shizuo, it felt like every part of him just wanted to align with the monster.

Izaya turned the corridor to their cell, pivoted around on his foot at their door in one quick motion and the next second his blade was pressed against Shizuo's jugular.

 _I still got it_ , Izaya thought with some small amount of satisfaction.

"Stop following me Shizu-chan, I'd like some space," Izaya said tersely, gripped his knife like a lifeline as he watched Shizuo's throat swallow under the shift of the blade.

Shizuo looked furious, eyes flashing and eyebrows scrunched, a frown carving his features to anger and if Izaya looked down, Shizuo's fists would probably be balled up to tight, barely constrained rage. He wondered how Shizuo hadn't managed to yet raise his hand to strike Izaya all this time.

"What the fuck happened Izaya, what prison scheme backfired on you, you don't even look alive right now," Shizuo spat, his tone demanding answers and Izaya felt disorientated, was he living? Shizuo pushed a step closer, let the blade press angry red to his skin and Izaya was beginning to feel panicked, too shaky but his hold on his knife was unrelenting.

"That's none of your business, back off," Izaya worked past his gritted teeth, his other hand was pushing at Shizuo's chest, to get him away, away from the sharp of his knife but Shizuo was like a solid wall cemented to the ground to not budge an inch and he wondered when had he started to care for Shizuo's safety. It made him feel weaker, until he had pulled his knife off Shizuo's neck, had sliced it against the monster's shoulder with a slide of his knife.

"Back off," Izaya repeated as Shizuo hissed in pain and suddenly Izaya was falling through their door as Shizuo simply opened it from behind Izaya and pushed him so hard it nearly swayed Izaya off his feet. He could literally feel his frame vibrate with the force.

"You want a fucking fight huh?" Shizuo roared, all festering anger and hurt disfiguring his features, Shizuo's eyes had bags under them, an indication of no sleep, he pushed Izaya hard again and Izaya lodged his knife back into Shizuo's shoulder, heard Shizuo's breath break on the pain again.

Izaya felt dizzy, the ground moving beneath his feet, his vision spiraling and his thoughts buzzing. Their tiny room was spinning.

"This is more like it isn't it Shizu-chan? We should have done this a long time ago instead of the whole caring act right?" Izaya smirked, let his smile cut like a razor and he could almost taste the nostalgia in his mouth, it tasted bitter.

Izaya dodged Shizuo's fist with a tilt of his head and Shizuo knocked his wrist away as it raised with his hand grasping the blade. The room had barely any space, Izaya regretted entering their room, the garden would've been much more suited but Izaya couldn't deny that the adrenaline rush was worth it, everywhere ached in a good way, he welcomed the pain, except for in the space inside his chest.

"Don't you fucking get it Izaya?" Shizuo growled, his hand curled around Izaya's shoulder, brought him stumbling forward into his space until they were breathing the same air that felt stretched too thin and heated, "I care. I've been trying to care but you push me away. You're so god damn stubborn, you drive me insane," Shizuo gritted out and his jaw must ache from how he was crushing his teeth together and the thing inside Izaya's chest stirred and suddenly Shizuo's golden eyes were like the sun and too bright for Izaya to take in.

"Good, let's turn this into a mental clinic, I can feel myself going insane too," Izaya laughed, devoid of humour, twisting out of Shizuo's grip that he could feel bruise his shoulder blade.

They scrambled, pushed and kicked in their tiny room, heads slamming against walls, hips knocking against the bed frame for an indefinite amount of time, this body of time didn't feel like it was driving Izaya insane like solitary had, it had him feel like he was burning, full of life, brimming with energy.

Shizuo's upper half was drenched in blood, tears of fabric from Izaya's knife all over his jumpsuit, Izaya felt bruises sharp and aching all over his skin, his lower lip split open and bleeding and they were both breathing rapidly, completely drained and weary, deflating all their emotions and anger into a buzz.

Until Shizuo leaned down and fit their lips together, sucked at Izaya's lower lip and Izaya could feel the sting, could feel Shizuo lick away the blood and hurt on his lips. Press him close with hands circling his waist.

It was fleeting.

It was _healing_.

Shizuo pulled away, his eyes dimmed but his pupils were blown across his irises and this, this was them definitely having a moment.

Izaya exhaled a breath he hadn't known that he was holding in and Shizuo stared at his face.

"Let's get cleaned up and talk okay?" Shizuo suggested, his voice gentle, compared to all the angry lines on his body.

"Okay," Izaya intoned quietly, pressed his face against Shizuo's chest and really he had been doing too much hugging today.

All the pent up rage had been diminished on both sides of the line, the war had been fought and a peace treaty was being drawn.

He smelled all the blood sticking on Shizuo and he didn't ever want to hurt him that way again, wanted all their wounds cleansed, wanted to stay in Shizuo's comforting embrace for the longest stretch of time, a forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've thought out a brief outline for the fic and 18 chapters seems more or less like the natural ending point and I'm starting college for the first time in a couple of days so updating might get a little slow but I'll try my best.
> 
> Thanks for the comments & kudos <3


	14. On your mother's eyes, say a prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what it's worth I am sorry.  
> I began college and time slipped away from me and tbh the determination wasn't just there, I was doubting my own work.  
> I do want to finish this and won't leave it for two months again.  
> This is an interlude chap of some sorts till the end and the products of my guilt for not uploading so sorry it's shit.  
> Thanks for sticking by.

"Working as a prison counselor has made me not want to base any diagnosis by first impression, has made me want to delve deeper after all these years," Ama Anzai, the prison counselor said in a smooth tone, her hand tipped the cup in her hand to her mouth and she took a long pull of coffee, letting Izaya take his time, letting the mechanics of his brain run its course and process the situation.

She was a small woman, face thin, which gave her a stern appearance and her eyes were light and piercing. Eyes that told she had seen everything, every horror that hid behind the human mind and that she could take it on the chin after years and years of experience.

Izaya mimicked her movement, pulled the cup that was on the desk in front of him and took a measured sip, his voice nearly broke out into a moan from the authentic taste of coffee attacking his taste buds, he discreetly inhaled the scent of coffee and wanted to bask in the moment he had been reunited with his coffee.

Instead, he placed the fragile cup back on the table, straightened his spine and quirked his lips into a pleased smile.

"What is your first impression of me Anzai-san?" Izaya asked in a sweet tone, let his eyes connect with the prison counselor who didn't even bother flinching.

She was veteran in this field.

It was fascinating.

If Izaya had met this woman on the street, he would have written her off as generic, bland but after the game of scrutiny they have been playing for the past half hour, Izaya could tell, this was an interesting woman.

A woman that didn't want normality.

Wanted to explore the deepest depth of human mind even if all that was hidden was festering immorality.

"I would've said you had a complex. Something developed at a young age by trauma or by design, you view yourself as divine. I would even say you had a God complex but to have that, you would have to think of yourself as the greatest, yet you're too self aware, too self critical and that's why I don't think you're deluded, which by first impression, I would have believed to be true," Anzai answered, looked back at Izaya with no visible reaction to Izaya's eyes darkening and his lips turning down.

"By first impression I would say you've got an addictive personality Anzai-san. Addicted to your job, you probably won't even be able to sleep until you crack me open to understand what lies within me, sacrificing time with your family and endangering that ring on your finger, " Izaya said in a nonchalant voice, let his hand hold the cup again and drank in the bitter coffee that made him feel a little wired after not having caffeine for such a long period.

"Then I would say I am looking forward to our next session."

  
///

Izaya stepped into the prison garden, having seen tufts of blond hair at his peripheral when he had walked by.

He inhaled the fresh air, missing the city air of his home, there was something off about breathing such clean air in sharp contrast with the filth of prison.

He found Shizuo in his usual slouched position by the wall, taking long pulls of his cigarette which should not have looked so elegant in his clumsy, large hands. He looked distracted in his own thoughts and he briefly wondered what thoughts orbited Shizuo's mind. It was a simple yet complex mind. Full of normal notions but weighed down by the circumstances of his biology. A mind that always carried guilt for just being who he was. Perspective and simple. Doubtful and confident. A paradox. An anomaly.

Izaya sauntered over to him, goosebumps erupting on his skin from the evening chill, sharp and biting. It was a time when the sun was low on the horizon by evening and inmates walked around the prison, cold, achy and lethargic.

He didn't let himself think as he let himself fall to straddle Shizuo's legs which were pushed out in front of him.

Shizuo, to his credit didn't appear nonplussed, Izaya never initiated contact like this, he automatically let his hand circle Izaya's hip to steady him and pull him a little forward, even though he didn't require the balance, he was perfectly stable.

"Share the cancer stick Shizu-chan," Izaya demanded, placing a careful hand on Shizuo's shoulder to brace himself, the beast radiated heat like the sun, his life thrummed warmth beneath Izaya's palm.

"Therapy not going well," Shizuo chuckled, it wasn't a question and that irked Izaya to no ends. He didn't need a therapist, he knew the mechanics of his own minds, could identify every little facet of it that tore him apart.

"Shut up," Izaya said, snatching the cigarette in Shizuo's grasp.

"You're going to get sick," Shizuo informed him, sounding far too amused, as he tipped back his head against the wall to watch Izaya shove the cigarette to his mouth and just inhale.

Heavy gas settled in his chest, tar and chemicals that knocked the breath out of him, causing him to cough and choke out his exhales and he clenched the cigarette in his hand, pushed it back into his mouth with stubbornness only to have it snatched from his mouth.

He shot Shizuo a glare that he reserved for scaring the life out of people but Shizuo looked unaffected, a tiny furrow in his eyebrows being the only shift in his expression.

"Not like that," he said, softly, more quiet than the tone Izaya had set.

He took a long drag of the cigarette and pushed back into Izaya's space, held him in place with a hand to his head and exhaled a breath of death to his mouth, the blow was softer, didn't sting Izaya's lungs or cause him to sputter.

He relaxed marginally and let Shizuo's exhales breath ease into his body.

  
////

"This Shizu-chan that you seem to despise, isn't he the love of your life?"

Izaya jolted at the counselor's words and if he were a clumsier man, the coffee in his grip would've spilled a stain to the floor.

If he were a man with less control, his face would transform into an array of emotions.

He was floored, his mind failing to perform a formula to reply, a route to guide the person he was speaking to with his own terms, to control conversations like he usually did, tilting them to tailor his own needs and wants.

"Where," Izaya paused, breathing past gritted teeth at Anzai's amused expression, "Would you develop that ridiculous notion?"

Anzai's triumphant face was something Izaya would wear before he wrecked havoc to Ikkebukoro's citizens or put milder when he would win a chess game and now he realised with little humour why so many people became irritated by his facial expressions.

"You never fail to mention him, in every session we have, it's almost obsessive and the things you say about him, I can read the emotion Orihara-san, I don't need to be a trained professional to deduce that," Anzai answered.

There was that emotion, that fear creeping up on him as blurred ideas and buried notions tried to fight upwards and spiral Izaya's life into torrents of disaster.

"I don't get that. I don't love like that, how could I love, certainly not him," Izaya said much quieter, quicker, that maybe if he said them fast, they would blur out of existence in the space in front of him, he looked at the splintered wood of the table rather than the pale eyes that surveyed him.

"In the midst of so many insignificant people that bored you in your life, he stood out, became significant, and you let him be significant. It was bound to happen, there isn't an ex in your life, no past or current lover, just him," Anzai said, just as quietly.

Her eyes had bags under them, dark with tiny veins visible, exhaustion was etched onto her features, hair scraped quickly into a bun and lacking her usual tint of pink lipstick, she was definitely a mother from Izaya's guess at the beginning.

"You appear tired Anzai-san, long night?"

"Do you always deflect emotional things by changing conversations as a coping mechanism?"

And Izaya was once again incapable of conjuring an appropriate reply.

  
////

"Izaya," Izaya heard Shizuo mumble half asleep, he blinked his bleary eyes at Izaya at their door, eyes clouded and misty with sleep, he looked so obscenely human, monstrous body tucked under the bed sheet.

"Go back to sleep Shizu-chan," Izaya said, flicking their light switch off and proceeding to climb the ladder to his bed. 

He probably looked a little manic with the little sleep he was operating on. The space inside his chest hurt as bad as his head. Too much thinking, this is why he rathered idyllic observation of other people in the park, his thoughts floated around in a web like pattern but at least it didn't hurt, now all he had to focus on was himself. He had observed everything about the other prisoners, could pick out the true nature of their crimes and minds and having to keep tabs on Black was honestly quite exhausting.

"Why aren't you coming to my bed?" Shizuo asked, sounding quizzical and deep and disembodied in the darkness.

Stupid pattern, it was ridiculous to spend every single night curled into the warmth of Shizuo.

__

"Go back to sleep," Izaya repeated dimly, swinging his legs over onto his bed.

He lay in his cold bed, wide awake and listened to the breathing pattern of his enemy, it didn't slow, Shizuo did not go back to sleep and neither did Izaya, missing the warmth of a certain love of his life.

  
////

"This issue of control you have," Anzai started, lips colored red today, so a date after Izaya's session, how interesting, had her equally workaholic husband made some time for her? What was more surprising was that Anzai was willing to put work aside for recreational activity. Japanese people had a horrible habit of doing that, literally working themselves to death but at least Anzai enjoyed her job.

"It's not an issue," Izaya denied, fighting to roll his eyes, Izaya did not roll his eyes, he was above that.

"It is though, you struggle to ask for help, you keep holding onto this rigid awareness of control," Anzai said, her voice growing more animated, her gaze intense as she tried to communicate with Izaya.

It as if she was close to cracking the puzzle that was Orihara Izaya, to telling him why all the pieces of him didn't fit together properly.

But Izaya didn't need anyone to tell him that.

After all, he was more than aware.

  
////

Izaya watched Black and Black watched him. It was a game. Black didn't have a move in mind, he just enjoyed watching Izaya squirm and Izaya squirmed to the best of his ability, to keep the monster inside Black sated.

It would not attack him unless it didn't have the joy of watching Izaya's misery

Black continued to tighten the collar slash belts on his fuck buddies necks and Izaya continued to read books to Gen in the corridor and try to break Shizuo's calm expressions to annoyance.

  
////

"I read your old medical files, you know. Your mother made you go to a psychologist as young as ten. They had multiple diagnosis. Sociopath, psychopath, bipolar and all sorts," Anzai said, in a clinically calm voice, eyes cutting into Izaya's.

Izaya's mind flashed back to the weight of his own mother's detached and disappointed gaze.

"Hmm what do you think?" Izaya asked, blinking the memories away and focusing on the razor sharp woman in front of him.

Anzai leaned forward, a little eager. "I think you let them diagnose you with what you wanted them to, you played with them."

"I'd have to have been a clever ten year old then," Izaya smirked.

"I bet you thought you were," Anzai smiled back.

And Izaya decided that he admired this woman

  
////

  
"I don't get it," Izaya breathed, trying not to let arousal saturate his voice as Shizuo kissed a lazy trail down his neck.

Shizuo's hair was completely brown now, it tickled the hollow of his neck, he could barely make the colour out with the little morning light streaming through the barred, high window.

"Get what?" Shizuo asked, voice thick on the last dregs of sleep and something else, his lips brushed against his skin as he spoke and Izaya ignored the twist of heat in his gut, tilted his hips away from Shizuo's in his bed, but Shizuo just followed him insistently, pushed the length of him against Izaya.

"You're into older women, not skinny men," Izaya huffed out, nearly breathless from the minimal stimulation. 

He could pretend his dazed state was due to only waking up ten minutes ago not due to his lust addled mind.

"Not when going on one date with said older woman got one said skinny man flustered enough to land me in prison, then followed me to the stupid prison himself," Shizuo said and he took advantage of Izaya's stunned silence to bite his collarbone and thrust up.

His body struggled to supply blood to his brain to think but all of it rushed south with the heat of Shizuo pressed against him, there wasn't an inch of space between them.

"I-I not why I put you in prison," Izaya hissed as Shizuo licked his bite, almost like some sort of animal.

Izaya could feel his cheeks flush and his heart beat a crescendo.

"Sure," Shizuo sounded smug and it caused Izaya's pride to rear its ugly head.

Izaya pushed back against Shizuo, ground himself when their dicks aligned through their boxers and smothered a groan to Shizuo's shoulder.

"So this is created because we're in prison together, outside this wouldn't happen, you're not even into men," Izaya said, a little out of breath by how hard he was, straining against the material of his boxers and throbbing against Shizuo's hips.

"No," Shizuo growled darkly, palms reaching to hold Izaya's waist bruisingly, to brace him in place as he tilted his hips up and against him, enough for pleasure to spike in Izaya's veins, for a whimper to tear out of his mouth.

"It would've happened, prison was just a catalyst."

"How can you be so sure?" Izaya asked, fighting to keep traction of the conversation, to not get lost on the dizzying sensation of Shizuo rocking against him and the little broken inhales he made every time Izaya pressed back.

"Because you were never afraid of me."

Silence.

Izaya stalled in his motions and before Shizuo could say anymore, could add another condemning word to all of this, he let his hand drop down in the tiny space between them

His fingers brushed against Shizuo's bulge and Shizuo hissed and seemed to forget what he was saying, bucking into Izaya's open palm.

Izaya dipped his hand into his boxers, mouth going dry as he tightened his hold around Shizuo, touching him like this for the first time and dragged up, watched as Shizuo's expression went slack, mouth parted.

Time seemed to slow and fasten as he stroked Shizuo carefully, trying to find a pace that suited him and of course the monster liked it fast, of course he exhaled sharply when Izaya gripped him tighter, of course he couldn't lie idle but had to fumble with Izaya's boxers, had to wrap his hand around Izaya and stroke together, causing Izaya to arch into him, to coil into a tight ball.

" _Oh_ ," Izaya said, toes curling, strokes synchronising with Shizuo's until they were both coming, heaving and groaning in the space between them.

Izaya's breathing slowed and he released Shizuo as he fall back, weightless on the bed

"It was always you," Shizuo said to the ceiling as Izaya lay warm, eyes wide and sated next to him, carrying on the conversation that Izaya had believed he had successfully ended.

Izaya kept his expression as blank as the ceiling.

  
////

"Do you think that maybe if you had a proper conversation with your estranged parents, let your sisters see that you cared, you would be more receiving of emotions."

 "Anzai-san, today's a sad day, our last session, shouldn't we be mourning our separation, the country can't afford money on countless sessions for criminals," Izaya interrupted and she was right, Izaya did deflect, diverted conversation but she made it out to be more of a problem he had than the skill he thought it to be.  

Anzai made a frustrated little sound, scraped a hand down over her face and fixed Izaya with an exasperated look, her cool professional exterior slipping for a moment.

"I really do hope you know what you're doing Orihara-san," she told him, eyes raking over his tired face. She wasn't wearing her ring today, it was sitting on her desk, she had had a fight with her husband, had clearly woken up early to get her kids to school, was clearly under stress and still she wanted to dissect Izaya's mind apart.

"Good bye Anzai-san," Izaya said with a genuine, small smile and Anzai's eyes widened, seeing a real facial expression on her patient for the first time.

Izaya was maybe a little grateful for his hardened, prison therapist.

She had, after all, provided some entertainment in his boredom of prison.

She had provided insight.

 


	15. Cause I'm gonna string this motherfucker on fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, anyone still here?  
> *Insert excuses on lateness* Very, very sorry, first year in college, time just flies and I'm obviously gonna be partying too much and I'm a freak about my grades so time just hasn't been made for this, I also find it so hard to end my stories and this one's close. It's so frickin difficult to get the plan I have for this written, to get to point B from A and this chapter nearly killed me so sorry if it's bad. There's this affect I'm trying to achieve with this, a certain atmosphere and tone and it's so hard to get out and tell me if I made any mistakes. Thank you for sticking by and the next update will be soon.

There was this odd ringing in his ear, the voice was talking in frantic excitement through the receiver but Izaya's attention kept scattering, emerging to try to fit together and not aligning symmetrically.

"What you're saying is I'm getting _out_ ," Izaya interrupted Shinra's babbling sharply, disbelief coating his tone to distort his voice to something he couldn't recognise, the ringing in his ears heightened.

"Yes, it took so long because so many info brokers refused to talk to me and the one that was building a case with me lost contact after a month, I have this sneaking suspicion that he died," Shinra replied enthusiastically, not missing a beat. 

"But how?" Izaya said, smothering the hope that tried to rise within him, his spine was straight, each vertebrae stacked upon each other and his balance didn't swing no matter how many people pushed him from behind.

"Well when my luck was running out, my darling Celty was on a delivery job for your Shiki-san and I remembered your business relationship. I thought if anyone had the balls to get you out when obviously people were so reluctant to, it was him. I pitched my idea to him, nice man really although his facial expression didn't really change and he just said that he had already been working on it and you were intended to be out within the end of the month and he-"  

Izaya tuned out completely after that, his head was spinning again. Of course Shiki had crossed his mind in the past months but he had been to proud to ask for help and couldn't fathom if he had any true value to him after being jaded down by the prison. Hope and happiness swelled up inside him, happiness was much scarier than sadness. It rushed inside you, abruptly and rapidly eclipsing everything inside you for that momentary spike of bliss. At least sadness and devastation came slowly, at least it spared you the mercy to get used to it, at least you are familiar with the notions of sadness but alien to happiness.It was a terrifying concept. Izaya never held on to expectations of happiness because when it ended, it crushed you but now he couldn't help the seed of hope Shinra planted, had cultivated and grown inside him and this plant would either grow to heights when the month ended or wither and die.

"Thank you Shinra," Izaya blurted, sounding a little breathless, his voice airy and distant, lost.

Shinra paused at the other end, a lapse of silence in his otherwise torrential onslaught of words.

"It's not a problem, do try not to die in these next couple of days please."

"I'm giving you a head on a silver platter if I do get out of this place Kishitani Shinra," Izaya promised, smirking and ended the call, taking just a tiny pinch of morbid pleasure on letting Shinra figure that one out for himself.

 

////

 

 

Izaya had promised Shinra that he would keep himself out of trouble but that was easier said than achieved. Usually when trouble didn't follow him, Izaya would go and actively seek it, even from a young age. He didn't want to fade away, as a pile of human monotony to crumble to dust with the elements, he wanted to explore the world and mark it with everything he could.

Izaya, currently felt high.

High off the knowledge that he would be out, there were voices trying to communicate things that would send him crashing to the ground but right then he wanted to embrace this euphoric feeling, revel in it, roll in it, become it. He ignored the incessant whisperings in his mind, ignored all the complications that would arise when he left prison, walked across the common room with a spring in his steps.

The area had always seemed small to him, so small he felt trapped but it shrunk even further when Izaya thought of the outside, away from this tiny world he inhabited with these bizarre assortment of people.

He locked eyes with the man he had shoved a shoe down, months back when things were darker and mustered a smirk that caused the man's eyes to widen and swiftly turn towards the inmate beside him.

Izaya smothered the hysteric laughter that threatened to erupt from him.

He had all this excess energy that had laid dormant inside him for months and now it had reared its ugly head and caused Izaya to feel restless.

He felt frenzied, disordered, like he could take on the world and more.

There was so much and too little to do in the time between his possible release that left Izaya's body confused as to what to do. 

Moving in hurried steps, he turned his direction of footing towards the gym where hopefully he could work off his buzz, the gym being a place Izaya rarely frequented due to the hot heads that clamoured around in it and eyed Izaya like they'd love to smash him down and not even just in the sexual manner.

Izaya knew that when he was out of this hellhole, he had to train more, his body had gone softer and less alert with the months in prison avoiding the gym and altercations in general.

He knew Shizuo came to the gym sometimes and Izaya hoped the man wasn't there right now, Izaya may just do something wreckless like kiss him square on the mouth right in the open where it would feel real and mean something more than it did in their own room where Shizuo was the one that initiated contact. Izaya could positively kiss that man silly right now.

He walked into the gym, ignoring any eyes that tracked him because soon those eyes wouldn't be on him no more and jumped onto the one lone bike. His feet started paddling as he set the incline high, he knew he should work up to it but right then Izaya wanted to feel the burn. To exert himself. He paddled, sweat starting to break at his forehead and started to feel the ache in his thighs, the rush of endorphins and the background sound around him. He could focus on just that one point of pain, the dull throb in his legs.

He increased his pace, put his feet down and back up by sheer will and stared forward, unseeingly.

He only started to slow down when his legs felt like jelly, lowering the incline back down and then paddling the last few rotations.

His breathing began to even and he wiped the sweat at his forehead and felt a shadow over him to his left.

He turned to Black's scathing smile, piercing eyes and knowingly arched eyebrows.

"You work that bike good," He said angling his body towards Izaya. His frame was huge and loomed with Izaya sat on the bike.

Izaya was tall by Japanese standards but he didn't have the imposing build, didn't fill out his shoulders with puberty. It had worked out well for him in his line of business, made him unassuming and approachable but also underestimated. It didn't serve him well next to Black.

Izaya found it funny that people would identify him to be the psychopath when they had no idea what a living, breathing psychopath was like, how their superficial charm gripped you like a vice and their callous nature made your skin crawl. Black usually made himself scarce with Shizuo being constantly around Izaya but now he had found opportunity. 

"I could work you good," Izaya purred, lowered his voice even and mimicked Black's body language and tilted himself towards him. He had missed that, flirting with danger.

Black huffed a laugh, pushed more into his space, "Careful, Heiwajima might hear you."

This man that had caused Izaya misery in his months in prison, who feinted attacks on Izaya cornered him and lured him and threatened to touch his sisters, who had that shit eating grin on his expression as he controlled Izaya's movements angered Izaya.

Izaya was always on top and he couldn't believe he had spent so long letting this man intimidate him, to tiptoe around him when he looked so mundane right now, not threatening just unerring. Izaya didn't care anymore, he had left all his inhibitions behind him, he was getting out. Out of this hellhole and the fluctuating moods it reduced him to every time. He needed to think and also make a mark on Black.

"Remember that time you promised me a prison fight but things didn't work out?" Izaya pitched.

Black quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, "You mean when your boyfriend beat him up?"

"Yeah I think you should still fulfil that promise," with practised, quick movements, Izaya flicked out his blade and sunk it into Black's shoulder, deep.

"Fuck you," Izaya said, his voice loaded with venom, eye level with the man now that he was hunching slightly from the stab, he knew his eyes shone dangerously as he said it and he marvelled at the emotion of pain them blue eyes showed as they widened and Black reached towards him, tried to take a grip of him but Izaya was already twisting his body away, sliding off the bike and darting towards the guard near the gym door.

The guard that proceeded to latch onto him and drag him out as Izaya showed no resistance, he was stock still because solitude will be his protection, his reprieve.

He knew that he would be dragged off into solitary to be disciplined.

Trouble followed him and he ran towards trouble and they collided to cause a catastrophe, always.

Izaya didn't even turn around to see Black behind him because he wanted that to be the end of the chapter for the two.

As predicted, Izaya was thrown into solitary, Izaya's high mood finally sunk down along with him as he lowered himself on the floor, next to the crack on the wall. The familiar white was more comforting this time round.

All the thoughts he had been avoiding increased in decibels in his head.

How does he acclimatise to the outside when this was all he had known for months, a near lifetime?

_What was left for him?_

_What was left of him?_

 

////

 

When Izaya began to count his time in solitary, he could estimate he was shut in for two days and a half, managing to sleep away half of that anyway

Instead of being escorted to his cell, he was shoved towards the warden's office and Izaya knew that he'd be getting a scolding but also an earlier release.

He knew how fast Shiki worked, knew that his release papers were already delivered to the warden and stamped with importance. The warden couldn't afford to let Izaya back into prison and be slaughtered by Black before his release and face Shiki's wrath, to say the man was intimidating was an understatement. 

It was a high risk game to play, he had literally endangered his life doing it but he wanted to be out quick, he was bursting at the seams and didn't want to lose his nerve.

He listened numbly as the warden gave him a grudging speech about the stabbing and told him he was free to go while waving his release papers in front of him.

Izaya was interested to know by what grounds he was released on but decided he had plenty of time to find out when he was out.

"Can I have ten minutes back in there to collect something before I leave?" Izaya interrupted.

The warden's eyes bulged with indignation, "Ten minutes Orihara, I'll tell the guard at the hospital wing to look over Black while you're in there," he scowled, already probably forgetting the name Orihara Izaya in his memory.

 

////

 

Izaya's satisfaction to Black being put in hospital was short lived because he had two things to achieve. The first one easier but also painful. He couldn't avoid it because he had a time limit and Izaya was less selfish than he thought himself to be.

Izaya walked the corridors of the prison, not feeling any sense of attachment to the dismal place till he located Gen. He wouldn't forget this place but he would not miss it. 

Gen was in his usual seat, against the wall outside his room. Although he was more sober these days, his fear of being in his own room that Marco had instilled within him had not faded.

"Hey," Izaya said softly, causing Gen to blink his bleary eyes up at him and smile. He moved to his left to give Izaya space to sit beside him but Izaya crouched in front of him instead, hearing his knees crack in the silence of the corridor as he hunched down.

He looked carefully at Gen and Gen looked back, his eyes more alert as if he understood something was going on.

"I'm getting out of here Gen permanently, this is my number," Izaya said, gently pressing a sheet of paper to Gen's palm and holding on, "Please call me on call days and I will help you in any way I can when you get out of here too."

Gen cocked his head to the side, gripping Izaya's hand back, his features not clear with the weak hue of corridor lights.

"They all leave," he slurred and that sentence tore Izaya to pieces, caused him to rest his head against Gen's shoulder and blink away the moisture that had gathered.

"I'm not leaving Gen, I'm waiting for you. You have someone there for you on the outside when you come out, you are not alone," he said, his voice steeled.

Gen sniffled and Izaya pretended not to notice.

 

////

 

Izaya found Shizuo in their shared room, the picture of ease, sat cross legged on the floor, using the bed as support behind him. His expression was slack as he scribbled in that tattered book of his, hair unruly and the physical lines visible from running his hands through them.

Izaya had entered the room as silently as he could. Shizuo had left the door slightly ajar, probably listening out for any commotion Izaya brought forth. Shizuo had probably heard of Izaya's exchange with Black, had probably spent the nights thinking of all the reprimands he'd give Izaya when he returned but probably had a less suffocating sleep because Izaya liked sleeping fully under the covers much to Shizuo's annoyance.

Izaya's chest contorted, an ache throbbing out from the epicentre of his heart and spreading. He could turn now, quietly leave without saying the goodbye, spare this whole exchange and Shizuo would be non the wiser. He could run away from this. Escape.

Instead he stood frozen at the door, drinking in every feature of Shizuo and memorising every detail to himself, at least he'd get to keep that. Just the image of Shizuo, the memory of him.

He had spent most of his life tangled in this man but at least he could pull at the knot and be released in the past, now the knot had become too intricate, too big and elaborate and messy.

Shizuo suddenly perked his head up because obviously his extra sense had to pick up Izaya no matter how silent he was being.

Their eyes locked, Izaya felt shaky, Shizuo opened his mouth, ready to chastise Izaya but shut it again abruptly.

He frowned hard, sensing the tension and knit his eyebrows together. "What's happened?" Ever the perspective Shizuo, always seeing through Izaya, making him translucent when Izaya wanted to be solid, always alert and already stood up and walking towards Izaya.

Izaya suppressed the urge to flinch, "I'm being let out," he said with a drawl, fighting the flatness that wanted to take over his voice.

He smirked and it was as if his flinch was transferred to Shizuo because the man flinched and stopped walking steps away from Izaya.

"How?" Shizuo wasn't hiding his reaction, wasn't avoiding the flatness in his voice and the emotions on his face. Shizuo was unadulterated, raw and pure. He was so real and human, it hurt for Izaya to look at him, as if he was the sunrise, bright and living.

"Outside contacts pulled through, I have to leave now, you'll be happy to have me out of your hairs," Izaya shrugged, swinging his vision to try and look at Shizuo and failing because everything screamed familiarity. Nothing was interesting in this tiny room but Shizuo yet he couldn't look away from their crumbling bunk bed, the crumbled chair, the cracked walls.

" _Don't_ ," Shizuo said, as quick as whiplash and Izaya sucked in a harsh breath. "Don't try to laugh this off and play casual like it doesn't affect you like it means fucking nothing. Look at me."

Izaya looked at Shizuo, really looked at him because his command was like magnetism and could see it all, just like Shizuo was attuned to him, Izaya was just as connected to Shizuo, the feeling was palpable.

"I know you have over a year left in here Shizu-chan and obviously I'll try to get you out when I leave but that's all I can say."

"You know I don't want that, you know I want to serve my full punishment and if you try to pull me out of here I will knock you completely out," Shziuo said frustrated, taking another step towards Izaya. It was an empty threat, Shizuo's hands were always steady with Izaya sure but also gentle, so very gentle.

"Then what do you want Shizuo?" Izaya asked, a desperate edge creeping into his voice which he couldn't smother. He wished he could brace himself on something, could hold onto the door or something.

"You know what I want," Shizuo answered, his stare hard and just as desperate as Izaya's voice.

What would he do when he got out? What had he developed here with Shizuo over the past months? How had it taken to be locked in to realise that he was such a repressed person? How had he developed such a reliance? This was a small point in his life, a hurdle and yet it felt as if everything was falling apart.

"I-I have to go," Izaya was mortified by how his vision of Shizuo was shimmering, how his voice did this little wobble that didn't go unnoticed by Shizuo.

And suddenly Shizuo was all around Izaya, holding him in a crushing embrace and just for a moment Izaya's heart stayed put in it's place, didn't feel like it was tugging in every direction. Izaya pushed his face into Shizuo's chest, inhaled the smell of smoke and cheap soap and Shizuo and closed his eyes so tight, the tears didn't dare to leak.

"I wont ask you to wait for me then because I want you to do that without me telling you to do so," Shizuo said quietly, his voice all gravelly and his hand stroking smooth reassurance down Izaya's back. "I wont ask you to promise me anything because you can't but I promise you that when I get out of here, I will fucking _have_ you. None of your walls and insecurities and running away. We will finally talk about it, not leave it unvoiced as we have been. We will be free. You will be free." The assertion and honesty that saturated his tone made Izaya's insides squirm and he let out a shaky breath, curled his fists in a clench from reaching out for Shizuo as they both pulled back.

"But I'll ask you for one thing," Shizuo continued, undeterred by Izaya's silence as he turned around and picked up the book on the floor behind him. "It's half written, with the whole plot on the last few pages, you said that you would look over this for me. I will give you the other half when I get out," he stated, pushing the book into Izaya's hands and letting his hands hover above Izaya's and physically looking pained to drop them to his sides.

Izaya held the book as if it were delicate glassware, holding it close and sculpting his expression back to blankness. "I promise, I'll look after this then," he whispered.

And with that, Orihara Izaya was set free and empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know it would be really poetic to end this here and leave it all open ended and angsty but I wouldn't do that to you guys plus these idiots are definitely getting their happy ending.


	16. Nobody knows all the trouble I've seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small interlude chapter that I made myself pump out because things are gonna get busy with me with semester two ending and exams rushing and commitments and I have a few events so I'm sorry guys the next chapter will be a while but the next chapter is what I feel live I've been waiting for a long long time and probably you guys have been too. This is meant to be subtle and distant but Shizuo will be in the next chapter and breathe life right back to it.

It was a testament as to how much Izaya had changed over his imprisonment that as soon as he got out of prison, he hauled a taxi and gave the driver directions to his former highschool, the highschool his sisters attended. He didn't waste time in breathing the air, it didn't taste any different to the prison garden air, if anything it made him ache to try and pin the smell of outside air because usually it was accompanied by the smoke that he breathed from Shizuo's lips.

Izaya ignored the driver's jab at a conversation and leaned back against the seat and sighed. It was comfortable. His let his eyes lose focus, let the outside scenery blur by in lights and flashes of life.

It was so real, everything, he could touch the outside, he was out of confinement. He could move freely, greater distances than that tiny place had enabled, he could smell different scents, could see people, alive and vibrant outside.

Izaya would surely burst at the seams.

Mairu and Kururi were picked up just as they exited the school gate, Izaya hadn't lost his skill of impeccable timing.

He took a moment to stare at his sisters, unaware of his scrutiny, walking together so close to the point it was obstructive. Mairu's animated motions and Kururi's fond, slight smile as she listened to her sister.

Izaya pushed open the taxi door, right in their path.

For a moment, Izaya was locked in a stare down between two sets of eyes, the same shade as his own.

"Ah so you're not dead," Mairu complained in a disappointed voice while Kururi continued to squint. 

 Izaya moved over to give them space to get inside and felt a genuine, fond smile cross his face, bigger than Kururi's.

 

////

 

Two days, it took two days of restless obsession and hacking, his body itching under his skin to the point he thought he had shattered into insanity. Two days, fifty five minutes of sleep, eight cups of coffee, half a bite of bread, six showers that Izaya spent scrubbing his flesh and still feeling the ghost of prison grime on his skin. One simple professional email to Shiki, lacking any of Izaya's snark, straightforward and concise, thanking him and detailing future work to be sent to him to this new email address.  A lot of pacing, maybe some muffled shouts into his pillow, smashing his mug against the wall in a fit of rage that reminded him so much of Shizuo that he nearly broke down. Ignored calls from Shinra. Closed curtains and sitting in his apartment that had accumulated dust to the point Izaya grimaced every time he sat in his office. Two days until he was able to find the people that orchestrated him being put in prison.

When he found them, he felt hollow, no fire inside him to extract revenge because it was so undeniably dull. 

An old client he had screwed over, influential with too much money and Izaya decided it was a learning curve to strengthen his security measures.

He continued to feel hollow when he visited Namie and she looked the exact same. The same clothes and disapproving expression, irritation in her features when she opened the door that morphed into shock when her eyes landed on Izaya.

"Why?" He had simply asked, leaning against the door frame, knowing the answer but needing closure. Closure because his apartment felt all too empty without a body of a certain grumpy secretary filling up space, a certain secretary that had betrayed him, that had thrown Izaya into shark infested waters without breaking a nail.

She had bristled, had subconsciously folded her arms in defence, her lips twitched and Izaya took victory in her discomfort but still deflated back to hollowness.

"Oh come on Izaya, you would sell me out too, quite easily, I was simply given a large sum of money and my desires, you know exactly why I did it, it's not like you to be sentimental, I wouldn't even think you would care."

"You care more about a certain someone than money or desires, don't you?" Izaya said quietly, his eyes flashed and his smirk curved but instead of it having the characteristic cocky edge it usually possessed, it felt bitter like vitriol. 

Namie had panicked at that, her eyes had widened, she had demanded what on earth Izaya had done to her brother, had latched onto his shoulders in desperation, digging her sharp nails deep but Izaya barely registered the sensation. 

"Relax," Izaya had said, his voice lacking any inflection, he locked eyes with her scared ones, knew nothing, not an iota of emotion shone in his eyes as he said, "I wouldn't do anything to you or your brother, guess I am just sentimental, after all."

And then he left and didn't turn back.

 

////

 

He found Shinra in his makeshift lab, he knew Celty wasn't present and wouldn't be back for hours.

He did that sometimes when he wanted to spend time with his one and only friend, he would send Celty out on a job and no one would be any wiser of Orihara Izaya being human and nerding out with his friend, talking aimlessly about humanity and Shinra's science projects just like they did when they were teenagers, right after the one time Izaya's body had acted out of his control, had a knee jerk response and had taken a knife straight to the gut for a mere person. He supposed he never really did have control did he?

Shinra of course was delighted to have him, started babbling and grinning so wide as soon as Izaya's foot crossed the threshold. 

"Yeah the beast was a mess, he had to pretend he was my prison wife to get protection, you know because I had the whole place wrapped around my little finger," Izaya filled Shinra in, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth to see his slightly bewildered, awed expression.

Shinra released a torrent of questions after that, like bullets fired by a machine gun.

It made Izaya relax marginally, lulled him into a sense of ease for the first time in ten days.

 

////

 

Izaya received a phone call from the publishing agency one evening, saying they were curious about the summary of Shizuo's  crime novel he had sent over to them and if it were possible to receive the first chapter draft of the story.

Izaya couldn't identify the feeling that rushed over him in that moment, didn't know how in one blink he felt more alive in days, didn't know what to do with the happiness that had welled up inside him, didn't know how to release it, didn't know how to tell Shizuo he was proud, wouldn't even be able to articulate it if Shizuo was stood in front of him.

He wanted Shizuo to be stood in front of him in that moment, to silently understand that he was proud with the smile that was spreading on his lips, with his uncanny perceptiveness. He had told Izaya not to interfere though, told him not to get him out, told him he would stay locked away inside and away from Izaya for another year because Shizuo always had to play the tragic martyr and Izaya couldn't do anything but feel powerless and frustration and lie awake at night feeling cold and simply _missing_.

Izaya had always felt small in this world, had feared his tiny body could never see the whole world in his limited mortal life span but he felt even smaller after leaving prison and entering the bigger world, he was in a constant state of vertigo and disorientation.

He sometimes wondered if he was truly free at all.

 

////

 

 

Izaya rested his head against the plane window, his teeth slightly clattering with the window vibrations as the plane took off into the sky and his ears popped with the change in air pressure.

A one way flight to Russia. 

Shiki had plenty of business in Russia and Izaya had latched onto this business as an opportunity to get away for a period of time in a secluded apartment that he owned already in Russia where he would be free to work and edit Shizuo's story in peace and be himself.

A clean slate because he had to get away.

All his enemies were probably scurrying around now knowing he was back out of jail but no one would be able to get him in Russia, he could let things settle.

Could fill his emptiness with a foreign country that he loved.

He watched as the things below grew minuscule and insignificant but he could viscerally feel the one spot below him that he was far, far away from, housing the monster that would fill Izaya instantly with life. 

That place below _was_ significant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I slap on an angst with a happy ending tag lol


	17. Why remember you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay let me just say, this was exceedingly difficult to write. I lost the feel for this fic around chapter 14 and it really upsets me because I enjoyed writing this and I find it hard to finish my fanfiction, i get too attached, thus the long wait.  
> This chapter isn't great, the smut is awful I apologise, I'm still new and it's meant to be more emotional than actually smutty, I feel like I really cant get back into the tone of this after all these slow updates but I'll try for the next and final, probably short epilogue.  
> I'm just gonna post these before I lose my composure to do so.

Orihara Izaya was a coward.

He hated being lost to routined monotony, hated the fact that him as a measly human being could get lost to the comfort of automatic actions every day. Humans seek familiarity and if prison taught Izaya one thing, it was that he was a living and breathing, painstakingly real human.

He despised the fact that when Shizuo finally breathed air uncontaminated by prison in Japan, Izaya stayed tucked away in Russia, continuing his usual routine.

He cursed himself for not having the strength to lift up the phone or get on the plane and make himself whole with the pull he felt towards home, getting stronger each day, tugging at Izaya until his shoulders and lips hunched down as each day passed.

Izaya continued to wake up after sunrise, work the morning away on his laptop, spend the evening outside, doing every task required to build network, gather intel, conduct meetings or simply just people watch, he didn't have a courier in Russia and thus was more on foot for things but he didn't mind keeping busy, keeping busy stopped the thoughts crammed and buzzing in his head, gave him a little reprieve. 

Nights were lonely, scheduled to get lonelier as Izaya was finished editing Shizuo's manuscript, now he was merely revising the script as an excuse to reread the familiar lines, to feel closer to the mind that had plucked the concept out of his head and strung it into words and breathed life to it.

Shizuo wasn't eloquent by any standards but he built a world with his words, there was a simplicity to it that gave a clear image of what he was trying to portray and Izaya got lost in it. There was a black and white duality that Izaya could appreciate the naivety of.

Sometimes when the ache of loneliness throbbed too hard, Izaya wondered if he had imagined it all. The whole experience lacked the solidness of realism in Izaya's head. Izaya knew that he repressed and blocked a lot of memories out of convenience but when the bright snippets of Shizuo would be filed away along with the sharp contrasting gloom of prison, Izaya couldn't bear to bury everything.

That had him trapped with the blocked memories of prison and the experiences with Shizuo that didn't feel real.

And even if it did happen, had been real, it was restricted to the walls of prison, where both of them had been lonely, reduced to their baser instincts. Outside it, Izaya saw no reason as to why Shizuo would need him, they could both act on more freewill than what prison had made them be.

So Izaya stayed away and Shizuo was free in Ikkebukoro without the pest that always wrecked havoc to his town.

 

 

With the sun bleeding the sky to twilight and air frigid cold with the bite of Russia, Izaya stepped inside his apartment lobby, a narrow, poorly lit area in his much more humble residence in Russia. He lived on the second floor and managed a nod towards the receptionist. As he wearily trudged up the stairs, his sluggish disposition dropped, his instincts flared and an almost sixth sense overcame him. It was a sixth sense that had followed him for years in his life, almost like a warning system not to repel but to attract towards the pull of presence he felt. It was inexplicable and drawing, a figment his whole being construed but felt very real to act out on, he stalled at the last step, pushing back the feeling, the rush that overcame him, it couldn't be happening.

Oh but it was happening.

A bowed head of brown locks, with not a tint of blond, slouched against Izaya's door, arms crossed and leaning back, waiting, hiding his six foot one frame if he straightened to his full height.

Shizuo looked up, his honey eyes locked with Izaya's and Izaya tamped down on the urge to run, to duck down the stairs and take some twisty alleys that he had become familiar with in this town and lose Shizuo to the crowd in this foreign land. But then Shizuo's eyes damn well _twinkled_ in some childish happiness and he pushed himself off the door.

"Tell me," Izaya managed, standing stiff and bursting with tension as Shizuo walked towards him. "How does a protozoan such as yourself manage to find me with your shit rate of income only one week out of prison?"

Shizuo scowled but there was no heat to it.

"Am I meant to throw a fit and scream Izaya and run after you at that?" Shizuo answered instead, stopping just short of Izaya, Izaya could near breathe him, didn't have to even look up too far to look at those golden brown eyes and feel all twisted up inside. The feat seemed impossible, there was no way Shizuo had had a relaxing week of freedom if he had used that time to locate Izaya and jump countries, just to see Izaya. Izaya of all people. Something lodged in Izaya's throat and clamped down.

"Are you going to let me in Izaya?" Shizuo said gently, a little closer, his head tilted towards him, eyes sure and uncertain at the same time like a paradox swimming in his irises and confusing Izaya to no ends because this question seemed to pose as something beyond just entry into his apartment, beyond the mechanisms of this moment alone. 

Shizuo didn't look much different than the last time he saw him but there was a sparkle in his eyes that resonated with his new freedom, a less of a slouch of resignation that had been permanently on him in prison, complimenting his broad shoulders, his hair was unruly though, curling slightly at the end and Izaya ached to touch a strand, a visceral wanting that hurt. He was wearing a heavy, dark coat, a bit crumpled from his travels. He looked good.

Izaya blinked, once, twice and sidestepped Shizuo, walking towards his apartment door, taking out his key to open it, he could feel Shizuo close behind, could see the outline of his shadow on the door right next to his.

Izaya opened his door.

It was only two steps to get to his kitchen slash sitting room and only a turn of his body to look at Shizuo, angle towards him and feel thrown off by his image stood in a place he had made home over the year.

"I didn't book a one way flight to Russia like you did Izaya," Shizuo started, his focus solely on Izaya, he didn't look around the apartment, didn't see how impersonal it seemed. As much as Izaya liked to call Shizuo dimwitted, he wasn't he was perspective and when he looked at Izaya he became transparent. 

"I see a year is all it took for you to become uncertain and hide your feelings again," bitter, the words were like acid, held more implication than most.

"I really do hate you Shizu-chan," Izaya spat his head ducking, no hate on the actual words just desperation.

"You're really infuriating flea, I can't tell if my blood is rushing in anger or happiness."

A pause.

A rush of silence in Izaya's ears, echoing.

Rough, large hands cupped his chin, tugged him back up to his line of vision to Shizuo, warm.

"I just have to reassure you again don't I?" Shizuo said, his eyes a little urgent, his body pressing until he had backed Izaya against a counter.

His eyes were so god damn earnest, glittered gold when his lashes fluttered over them. Izaya was blown away by all the details, by a year of separation that had made the visual of Shizuo seem blurred to his mind's eye. Izaya could not look away. Couldn't force himself to push him away and run because Shizuo was captivating. Shizuo was all he had thought of for a year, for many years and it was harder to ignore that now that Shizuo was onto him.

 Shizuo kissed him rough and hard, their teeth clacked and Shizuo's tongue swiped against his, hot and wet, he gripped Izaya's hips and Izaya gripped Shizuo's biceps back, tightly, anchoring him. They kissed until Izaya grew slacker against him, shivering from the slower kiss, the lighter brushes of lips against swelling lips, feeling a little strained when Shizuo broke it and nosed gently against his jaw and just breathed. Just breathed him in.

"I...I never wanted to make you feel coerced in prison so I'm asking you now where we're both free men, equals. Can I take you to bed 'Zaya?" Shizuo rasped against his neck, lips soft, stubble grazing.

Izaya tensed again, felt his exhale shake his frame.

He brushed his hands through Shizuo's hair, the strands softer than how coarse prison had made them be, he used to run his hands through Shizuo's hair in prison, it calmed himself more than Shizuo, something methodical and reassuring about it but it used to be a great manipulation tactic to put the monster straight to sleep, he had missed this touch, weaved his fingers through the strands, bunched them in the hair and pulled Shizuo's head back from the juncture of his neck and just looked, looked at that familiar face.

"I'll be the one taking you to bed, Shizu-chan," he said, aiming for a lighter tone, a more teasing lilt but his eyes were still locked on Shizuo's, could see them darken considerably at his words.

"Take me then," he growled, his hold like a vice, his body still pressed hard against his frame like he could mould himself to Izaya.

Izaya took his hand and led him to his bedroom with Shizuo close behind, like all their past interactions. Shizuo following and Izaya leading but not running away this time, just steering him in a direction he had never thought was possible.

All the space in his room was taken up by a large double bed, the duvet black, one side of the wall supported a giant window, framing the darkened sky and the pinpricks of city lights pulsing  outside.

Shizuo laughed, distractedly, Izaya's chest burned.

"Always the same flea," he said, his smile at ease, looking around his room that wasn't unlike his room back home and tugging off his jacket and throwing it on his armchair.

"So are you," Izaya said pointedly looking at the clear bartender shirt Shizuo had adorned, his own smile threatening to pull at his features if he weren't so anxious about the turn in events. So many things had changed but remained unchanged at the same time, like the magnetic pull towards Shizuo had always been there but not the smile that greeted him on the other side.

Shizuo's smile softened along with all his features, the city illuminated behind him, brilliant and beautiful, brimming with life and feeling less foreign with Shizuo in the frame.

"Come here," he urged, tamping down on Izaya's fear of the unknown.

They kissed with the backdrop of the city behind them, Izaya walked them to his bed and Shizuo didn't let go, they lowered themselves on the mattress together.

"Hands up," Shizuo ordered, his lips against Izaya's, Izaya breathed him in. Cigarettes, smoke, ashes, warmth, some lemoney shampoo.

His shirt was pulled off him along with his trousers, with the tilt of his hips upwards and the curling of his toes in the sheet.

"Fuck look at you," Shizuo said, his voice breathy but Izaya could barely look at Shizuo, he shone too bright and he could feel a blush high on his cheeks, all his embarrassment flushing his chest a pink that Shizuo traced, his palm calloused and warm running over his torso almost reverently, Izaya's throat closed up.

 "Off," he said, around the dryness in his throat, his words sounding brittle to his own ears. His hands fumbled with the buttons on Shizuo's shirt and Shizuo's hands joined his, soon the shirt slid off his frame, leaving the broad shouldered monster beneath his hands, he pulled down his zipper too, in one quick movement and Shizuo's whole hips angled towards his hand.

"Easy," Shizuo hissed, removing his slacks and shoving Izaya down on the bed with a hand to his chest, his other one curled around his hipbone, already bruising.

Izaya squirmed, Shizuo pressed down more firmly.

"Relax, it's just us," his eyes not letting Izaya's waver, just able to read him, Izaya calmed down marginally, it had always been just them, Shizuo always made him feel safe. Shizuo was here and not in Japan. Izaya hadn't been forgotten, Shizuo didn't leave the memories of him trapped and locked in prison and if one person at least remembered him when he died, he surely lived on.

He pushed forward, planted his lips to Shizuo's and bit his lower lip, hearing Shizuo near growl and hold his hips tighter, slid his tongue against his and push his bulge to Izaya's causing an electric sensation to startle his mouth open wider against Shizuo's, to coil the heat in his stomach tighter. 

His mind clouded over and sharpened simultaneously, focused on the points of contacts.

"Lube is in the drawer," his voice was so strained.

Shizuo yanked off Izaya's pants so quickly, Izaya was left breathless and before he could even get air to his lungs, could gain some composure, Shizuo's hand fisted his cock to full hardness, in an inelegant, altogether rough and hot movement. Izaya's feet planted against the sheets, his hips tilted up and Shizuo's thumb swiped against the head of his cock, smearing the precum.

"Shizuo," he tried to say, a gust of air leaving his mouth in a whimper.

"Missed you so much," Shizuo was saying, his voice lower, a pitch that was intimate. Just overloading him with touch and emotions so Izaya couldn't think, couldn't retreat.

"Me too," Izaya gasped, truthfully, forgetting to filter himself, body arching into Shizuo's hands.

Shizuo managed to unearth the lube and spread the liquid to his fingers and Izaya watched with a mixture of arousal and anxiety fluttering in his stomach.

"Spread," was what Shizuo said as a pad of a finger pressed against his rim and rubbed.

Izaya's legs opened, Shizuo fit in perfectly amongst the breach of space.

"Have so much to tell you," Shizuo distracted, his finger drove in without warning, Izaya's face rippled, the sensation burning when Shizuo circled and pushed the finger coated with the cool lube in and out, a second one scissored inside him with the first, creasing Izaya's forehead. His stomach felt taut, heat burning white hot inside him.

Shizuo eased, going slower with three fingers driving slowly inside Izaya, glancing up to stare at his face and the moment was all too intimate, made Izaya feel vulnerable and altogether too exposed. His heart struggled rapid beats against his chest, loud and telling.

"Okay?"

"Just put it inside me you monster."

His fingers crooked, curling, hitting a spot that Izaya knew was rationally his prostate but rationality was not within his thoughts because his voice opened completely on a moan, surprising him and Shizuo's gaze grew hot.

Shizuo's hand pulled out of him, arranged him, putting a pillow under him.

Izaya looked at him with wide eyes, his cock flushing back to full hardness when Shizuo stroked his own dick, purple at the head with the lube glistening.

He lined himself up, held Izaya back down in place.

"Gonna ask again, you okay?" His cock pressed against Izaya's entrance, hot and large.

"Oh fuck yo-" Shizuo rammed in, dragging inside him by inches and causing Izaya's eyes to close and his breath to shorten. His hands struggled for purchase, grabbed Shizuo's shoulders so tight he could physically feel his nails dig in and tear at skin. He wished he could have nails on him, to scatter his attention to that pain instead of the consciousness of Shizuo inside him.

He stayed like that, inside Izaya for a long moment, not moving, Shizuo wasn't exactly small and Izaya fluttered around him, trying to adjust and try not to show just how he was affected by Shizuo breathing against him, his warmth seeping into him, aligned so perfectly together, it hurt, Izaya blinked away the stinging in his eyes. Saw the walls in the room, the little furniture, the void like white of the ceiling, the picture of the ocean hanging lopsided, in front of him, reshaped all his memories and loneliness staring at that exact picture over the year, rewrote it with Shizuo against him, close and embracing.

Shizuo started to move then, the sensations wholly new to their intimacies in prison, shallow thrusts that started to push inside him further within seconds, slick drags that ignited Izaya, pressure turning into pleasure and pulled him so acutely to the present moment, fractured his attention to the past vitriol.

Shizuo's hands grabbed his thighs, spread him an inch further until his legs throbbed, braced against Shizuo's hips.

"Look at me," he requested, his voice grating, proceeded to push inside him when Izaya blearily looked at Shizuo, who was sweaty and flushed, hair a wild tangle but still so beautiful, close another person so near him.

"Oh look a monster," Izaya managed to say, his voice composed to evenness, met Shizuo's thrusts with a push downward, smirked as Shizuo's breath halted. 

Shizuo shuffled closer, changed his angle slightly, "No, someone who's  _fucking_ you," he didn't pull out, his voice curled to heat around those syllables, ground his cock against Izaya's prostate in rolls till Izaya's voice was breaking on heat again.

Shizuo's palms were wet with sweat and lube on his thighs, his movements pushing Izaya closer and closer to the head rest and reducing both their coherency, just increasing the tension in the room, making them hotter, letting their bodies move together, building, gasping each others' names just for something to say, something to teeter them.

"I don't know if I can," Izaya exhaled, trying not to babble as Shizuo throbbed and pulsed inside him.

He tugged Shizuo closer, clawed at his hair, making it messier, cock full and ready to spill, body taut, climbing higher and higher, ready to topple over, mind at war.

"Let it go," Shizuo suggested, voice gentle, teeth scraping against his neck, his mouth sucked at the area that Shizuo knew made him tremble, hips stuttering in jerky movements as he started to come, body grazing Izaya's own dick.

And Izaya let his control slip, allowed the room to be bright with all their emotions and sounds not tangible to his eyes but his mind, a spectrum. Something that was fate or his own doing, falling into space.

But if Izaya was the one to let it happen, let him be the one to lose his control, shattered and cracked it with his own freewill, was he really losing or finally shaping into a normal human?

He finally set himself free.


	18. Life is but a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we go guys, I made myself churn out this last chapter and I'm honestly feeling bittersweet.   
> I loved writing this fic (albeit the last four chapters were rushed and not as good as the others) but it's finished and it hurts to part with it because I put in a lot of effort and time into this and can be proud of many aspects of it. I can't be eloquent with even saying this but this fic is definitely the most important thing I've written thus far for me and I was so scared to portray it to everyone but so many of you encouraged me, left constructive and sweet reviews, honestly thank you for reading my writing, my actual writing like what the fuck thank you, I remember all of your names, read your comments all the time, especially BloodInTheWater33 for leaving me such support and enthusiasm, making me happy with my writing.
> 
> This chapter is snippets of Izaya's life after prison, looser timeline but time is passing in this, I hope the message comes across
> 
> I'll deffo be back to write for this fandom because I am a Shizaya fanatic. I just wanna say, if anyone wants to write a prison AU of these two, go for it, none exist in AO3 anyway and I'd love to read it, it's no fun reading your own story :D
> 
> So until next time <3

_** ** _ ****

"I hear you're looking for a secretary on hire."

Izaya raked his eyes over the man opposite him. His usually dull eyes were bright, full, happier, not supported by bags under them, his sunken cheeks were less defined, his weight healthier, his skin a normal and fresher tone. His hair fell long, down to past his ears, a shinier and softer complexion to them.

"Yes obviously one with experience and a hot female," Izaya quipped, lips tilting upwards around his coffee when the man chuckled, his cheeks a little pink.

"I've had experience with being a receptionist before prison and please Orihara-kun your eyes wont ever be on hot females," Gen smiled, his eyes twinkling in mirth.

He was like a new person.

Recovery wrapped around Gen like a perfect glove, nurtured warmth and life right back to the corpse he was reduced to in prison. He was lax against his seat on the table, didn't flinch when others came too close, didn't fold into himself, watched the people blur by the window along with Izaya at ease.

"Please Orihara-Kun, you've done so much for me, so much money for rehab, let me not be in your debt, let me repay you," Gen said, his eyes large and earnest and finally aware, his words not slurred, his body shifting forward to hold Izaya's view.

Izaya sat still for over a minute, told himself it was a reliable and smart move to have someone as loyal and trusting as Gen, who wouldn't fuck him over like Namie had in the position as secretary. Who held some hero worship pedestal for Izaya, who was evidently a fast learner and quite diligent but in the end those practical reasons weren't why Izaya said yes.

It was that sincere expression and the desire to keep everyone that made Izaya happy close.

 

 

 

 

Izaya counted the cups in his cupboard, four along with the fifth he placed back inside with a delicate tap of the ceramic.

He sighed.

Turned around to the monster sipping milk innocently with look, his glass, sat relaxed at the table.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya started slowly, "Did you break another one of my cups?" He tried to do the angry furrowed brow thing Shizuo usually could do but was hopelessly failing because Shizuo was literally a damn child. An overgrown child that had taken up all the space in his home.

Shizuo got a deer caught in the headlights look, lips parted and eyes alarmed which was honestly quite hilarious and worth the broken cup.

"I got angry?" Shizuo replied, statement sounding like a question and placing his glass down, sporting a milk moustache that Izaya wanted to lick off.

Fuck.

"At what may I ask you rage fuelled monster?" Izaya asked, folding his arms.

"You threw away my pudding."

"It was past the expiration date."

"It was in perfect condition!"

Izaya fought a smile, a small part of his awareness purring at how lively his apartment and existence had gotten, flaring with life. He had gotten his spark back.

 

 

 

 

His step faltered, his heart skipped, his eyes blinked, his body tensed.

Shizuo had wrapped his hand around his, large and soothing, fitting so perfectly with his.

Right in public.

Izaya looked up at him with surprise and panic and Shizuo had the audacity to smirk, fucking smirk, he was the one that smirked in this relationship.

He dug crescent marks into the toughened flesh that barely reddened.

Simon lost his cool, mouth open and at a loss of words for once when they walked by Russia Sushi, hand in hand.

Erika took pictures.

 

 

 

 

Izaya's eyes felt raw and achy, probably bloodshot from a lack of sleep, not that Izaya slept a lot but not even having a nap for two days and functioning on solely coffee for the aforementioned two days couldn't be healthy, if the tremor in his hands were anything to go by.

Izaya fell against the soft of his mattress, basking on just how soft his bed was, he would never take this luxury for granted again. His eyes fluttered closed, reducing the irritation in them and he saw Black. Not the darkness one sees when closing one's eyes, he saw the terror of the man himself.

Izaya had researched relentlessly and he believed he had a case, he had definitely connected two dead bodies to Black which was not within the knowledge of the authorities, he just had some field work and detective work left to finally build a good enough case to gain life in prison for Black.

He smiled to himself, after sleeping, he would take Shizuo with him. Shizuo always lit up with anything to do with detective work and he had been casting suspicious glances at Izaya every time he disappeared off the axis of their shared existence to handle matters as if he were up to no good, which he was but only sometimes. Anyway having the strength of Heiwajima Shizuo by his side made people weary to cross him.

Black couldn't get to them, he would be stuck in prison permanently, these dead girls had been asphyxiated with belts, hauntingly close to his sister's ages, he knew Black's trademark when he saw it. He would never let Black near him, threaten his happiness or the people that mattered. Izaya's confidence in himself was absolute in this moment, he had definitely gained himself back. He knew his mind operated much faster than other people's, spiralled into thoughts in opposing directions and twisted, sometimes not meeting and that gave him the setback of doubt but he was in a much better head space than prison had reduced him to, for once he was healthy. 

Black would be put away for good because Izaya could bear seeing the blacknesss of his closed lids for three hours a day but never would he be willing to see Black again.

 

 

 

 

He watched large, clumsy hands, hands capable of destruction, of bending and breaking and causing complete chaos, of shattering bone, of godly resistance and endurance, carefully weave them through soil, gently making holes to place seeds in and brush soil over the area, patting the space with minimal force.

He swung his vision to his grandmother's headstone.

Birds chirped with the early dawn, the sky brightened to silver streaks, the wind gusted by them, caused strands of Shizuo's hair to lift and flutter in the wind. 

Izaya's mind quieted, at peace.

"Shizu-chan you're gonna crush the damn flower seeds you brute."

 

 

 

 

"We have more space than we ever had in the prison showers," Shizuo sighed, hands running over Izaya's collar bones, hot and wet from the spray of the shower over them. It was odd how Shizuo fit right into his daily life style. Izaya enjoyed solitude, needed his space and Shizuo somehow managed to never crowd him, easily entwined together their presence without oppression.  Izaya could bask in these quiet moments, happy.

Izaya's hands made their way into Shizuo's wet hair, plastered brown strands to his forehead and started massaging shampoo into the locks, tugging Shizuo's head closer to him, watched the drops of water that blinked off Shizuo's lashes and started trailing down his face.

"Stop that, we're trying to get clean from our activities not restart them," Izaya said, felt the lather beneath his fingers, felt the solid closeness of Shizuo's existence bleed warmth to him.

"Right." 

Shizuo's hands smoothed down the plains of his torso, followed the rivulets of water, hot and branding and wrapped around his member, curled his fingers gently and _stroked_. "Gotta clean everywhere," Shizuo said, leaning into his ear to Izaya's stuttered gasp.

The water swirled around them, the vapour blurred, blotted the outside world out to them.

 

 

 

 

"You got me a present?" Shizuo questioned, his eyes squinted, swimming with suspicion.

"Yes, I can give presents," Izaya drawled, flopped down onto the arm of the sofa beside Shizuo, angling his body towards them. "Open it," he said impatiently, casting his eyes down, excitement and something else fluttering in his stomach and bubbling outwards.

Shizuo's hands brushed over the foil of wrapping, doubt set in his eyebrows as he tried to tear at the paper gently but it ripped open under his ministrations, writing and images unfolding beneath the wrapping paper.

The first published copy of Shizuo's book fit inside the creator's hands.

Shizuo turned to him, eyes blown open, stunned and happy and Izaya knew what it meant to Shizuo, knew how happy he would be to achieve something without his monstrous strength, knew he wanted something to be proud of to tell his parents about, to have accomplishments beneath his belt not destruction. To attain something to his timeline associated with prison.

Shizuo lunged, tackled Izaya to the floor behind him and slot their lips together.

Izaya kissed him back when he was finally able to breathe air to his lungs.

 

 

 

 

Their life wasn't always one of tied loose ends, flattened stresses and self discovery that led to recovery. It wasn't basked in simple happiness because what they had gone through wasn't simple. When Izaya was awake, he had the mental fortitude to push away thoughts that looped in twists and darkened, thrust the fragmented images of prison to a box enforced with steel but in sleep, the closest thing he had come to death, his guards fell down, he had no control on what his mind conjured up, presented in convoluted images.

Black, them stained white walls, Korn, the groping hands, the scrutiny, the endless boredom laced with danger of his life being cut away, simple and easy like every life that is lost everyday.

They both had nightmares.

Shizuo rarely ever spoke about his year in prison without Izaya. Shizuo held Izaya tight when he woke up trembling and spasming, tears in his eyes, held him down and curled around him. Shizuo didn't get angry when Izaya lodged a knife into his shoulder in his sleep, paranoid that someone was getting him in his dreams.

Shizuo kissed Izaya warm and slow when Izaya disappeared for a week after that and pushed him back into their bed to sleep with him, completely trusting.

This particular night, Izaya lay awake, warm beside Shizuo, could feel the press of his hip and leg beside him, seeping his heat into him. Sleeping this safely diminished Izaya's insomnia significantly, he now slept nearly four hours a night, didn't get up after them four hours, stayed tucked up beside Shizuo for hours, aware and observing, relaxed, his body was so well rested lately. It helped him vastly.

This particular night, it was Shizuo's brows that scrunched up in his sleep, his body that jerked, his breath that broke and god damned _whimpered_ and Izaya's heart cut jagged on the sound, Izaya turned sideways, Shizuo's face illuminated by the city lights from the window, Shizuo's face that was distressed.

"Shizu-chan," he called, his voice strained, his stomach lurching when Shizuo started shaking. He pushed himself up, placed a hand at Shizuo's shoulder, started shaking him with no response.

"C'mon Shizuo, get up," Izaya urged, putting his weight on Shizuo, curling his hand on him more tightly, the pitch of his voice loud now in the quiet of their room that was disturbed by Shizuo's breathing.

Honey eyes sprang open, wide and haunted and for a moment Izaya could almost see the nightmare in them, could see the fear that darkened the pupils big and scared.

"Izaya," Shizuo rasped, fumbling, hands going around him, seeking, holding.

"You're here," Izaya murmured, resting his chin on Shizuo's shoulder.

Shizuo was solid again against him when the shaking subsided.

 

 

 

 

The air of the open window filtered into the room, carried the tendrils of smoke and dispersed it to outside their city, polluting the air and flying away from them towards all the colourful people Izaya loved to observe.

Izaya never permitted Shizuo to smoke in his apartment but in Shizuo's apartment, they wrapped around each other, smoked a cigarette, cut the harm of it by half and carried it equally.

Izaya leaned into Shizuo, felt the press of his chest against his, wondering if their heart beat in sync when he inhaled the plumes of smoke against Shizuo's lips and whispered, "I love you," on his lips, shaped the words on him. He didn't know why he whispered, maybe because everything felt loud then, the magnitude of it ground breaking.

Shizuo's hands tightened on his thigh, pulled him impossibly closer, his lips curled into a smile against his, shaped back the response.

"Thought you'd never say that," he huffed.

They finished the cigarette, burning it to near nothingness, communicated everything through it and held each other close, dissolving the past to bad memories.

The city was beautiful, even framed with Shizuo's smaller window when Izaya spared to look away from Shizuo because his eyes shined brighter than any light.

**Author's Note:**

> I should not have started this, I'm studying for damn exams and I have no idea on the plot but I was stuck on the premise and had to write it oops I can't stay away from Shizaya. 
> 
> Updates will be slow until the end of June, when my exams are finished, stick by me and let me know what you think :) 
> 
> This will be a short story, my goals for this fic is to explore Izaya's character expect some OOC because damn the boy is complex and to produce lengthy chapters after this introduction chapter.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Shizaya planet: exploration of rare species](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534427) by [Sociopathicnutellaeggplant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sociopathicnutellaeggplant/pseuds/Sociopathicnutellaeggplant)




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